rj  ?> '  ^ 

is  IL      O 


Tf';»&K*i*t'i?  T>  Q 
:  l  Ill  K  k5 , 


R    JACK    DOWNING. 


••^^k«^kji;o  pen  r*  tl"-  original  author  of  < 

vary  ''..v*  "tin#,   and   pos- 
th«  writiru  s  of  a  aameroos  liord?  «f  j 


^  1)  t  [  1.1  L>  dp  I)  ici': 

.M'T  STREET. 

T? 


GIFT    OF 
JANE  K.SATHER 


JACK    DOWN  ING'S 


BY 


MAJOK   JACK  DOWNING. 


"There  Is  no  doubt  that  the  author  of  this  little  volume  is  the  best  painter 
of  Yankee  peculiarities  that  ever  wrote.  He  is  true  to  nature  and  never  cari 
catures  ;  but  without  caricaturing,  is  most  amusing." — N.  T.  Courier. 


J)  I)  H  a  b  t  ( p  I)  t  a : 

T.    B.    PETERSON    AND    BROTHERS, 

306    CHESTNUT    STREET. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1845,  by 

BURGESS,  STRINGER  &  Co. 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


PREFACE. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


I  WENT  into  Burgess  &  Stringer's  book-store  'tother 
day,  under  the  great  Museum  Buildings  opposite  the 
Astor  House,  and  was  kind  of  shying  round,  and  look- 
in'  at  the  everlastin'  sight  of  books  they've  got — as 
much  as  two  cart-loads  on  the  counter,  clear  from  one 
end  to  'tother,  packed  down  in  rows  side  by  side,  jest 
like  the  bricks  of  the  side-walks  in  New-York,  or  of 
Uncle  Joshua's  kitchen  harth  in  Downingville,  besides 
as  much  as  twenty  cart-loads  piled  up  round  on  the 
shelves.  I  begun  at  one  end  of  the  long  counter,  and 
was  takin'  a  kind  of  raking  view  of  the  titles,  and  when 
I'd  got  over  about  a  rod  and  a  half  of  'em,  along  come 
Mr.  Burgess,  lookin'  as  good  natured  as  if  he  couldn't 
help  it.  And  says  he — 

"  Major  Downing,  how  are  ye  ?  I  havn't  seen  you 
this  long  time  ;  where  have  you  kept  yourself?" 

"  O,"  says  I,  "  all  about  in  spots,  and  the  rest  of  the 
time  at  home  with  Polly.  But,"  says  I,  "  Mr.  Burgess, 
for  gracious  sake,  you  don't  expect  there's  folks  enough 
in  America  to  read  all  these  books,  do  you  ?" 

"Read  all  these  !"  says  he,  "  why,  Major  Downing, 
here  is  n't  half  a  mouthful  for  'em.  There's  a  plaguy 
sight  more  folks  in  America,  Major,  than  you  think  for ; 
and  the  way  they  swallow  down  these  things  is  a  cau 
tion  to  old  rags  and  paper-makers,  I  can  tell  ye.  If 
we  should  cram  every  book  we  've  got  in  the  store  down 


IV  PREFACE. 

their  throats  for  breakfast,  they'd  be  as  hungry  as  bears 
for  more  by  eleven  o'clock,  and  cry  out  for  something 
for  a  lunch.  It's  a  fact,  Major,  the  public  has  a  dread 
ful  cravin  appetite  for  books ;  there's  no  pacifying  of 
'em  ;  and  it's  the  duty  of  every  man  that  can  write  his 
name  and  spell  in  words  of  four  syllables,  to  go  to 
work  and  help  to  make  books  with  all  his  might,  so  that 
the  public  shan't  starve." 

I  looked  up  at  him,  and  says  I,  "  Mr.  Burgess,  you 
are  joking." 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  am  not,"  says  he,  "  it's  true  as 
preachin.  The  sufFerins  of  the  public  for  want  of 
books  is  awful ;  and  now,  Major  Downing,  you  can 
write,  I  know  you  can  ;  I've  hearn  tell  of  your  writing 
years  ago,  in  the  Gineral's  time ;  and  now,  if  you've 
got  one  spark  of  patriotism  or  common  humanity  left 
in  your  veins,  you'll  go  to  work  and  contribute  your 
mite  to  keep  your  countrymen  from  starving." 

"  What,"  says  I,  "  you  don't  mean  for  me  to  put  out 
a  book,  du  ye  ?" 

"  Most  certainly  I  do,"  says  he ;  "  it's  your  duty, 
and  you  ought  to  do  it  immediately, — this  very  week. 
There's  thousands  and  thousands  that  have  to  go  to  bed 
supperless  every  night  for  the  want  of  a  shilling  book, 
and  get  up  in  the  morning  with  nothing  to  stay  their 
stomachs  for  the  want  of  a  sixpenny  pamphlet.  Major, 
it's  too  bad  that  the  public  should  be  left  to  suffer  so. — 
Go  right  to  work  and  get  us  up  a  book  this  week." 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  Mr.  Burgess,  I  don't  know  as  I've 
got  anything  to  make  a  book  out  of,  unless  it's  a  few 
letters  Fve  been  writing  to  Aunt  Heziah,  about  the 
bobbery  you  Yorkers  always  get  into  about  the  first  of 
May." 


PREFACE.  V 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  less  see  'em." 

So  I  pulled  'em  out  of  my  pocket  and  showed  'em 
to  him.  He  took  'em  and  looked  'em  over,  and  read 
along,  and  his  face  kept  growing  shorter  and  shorter, 
and  at  last  it  burst  right  open  crossways,  and  his  sides 
was  all  of  a  shake,  and  I  thought  he  was  going  to 
swallow  the  letters  right  down  raw  before  they  was 
Dooked.  Says  I,  "  Mr.  Burgess,  don't,  for  it's  the  only 
copy  I've  got." 

"  Just  the  thing,  Major,"  says  he,  "  as  far  as  it  goes ; 
but  there  aint  quite  enough  for  a  dose.  You  must  add 
a  little  more  to  it." 

"  But,"  says  I,  "  I  haint  got  nothin'  ready." 

"  Never  mind,"  says  he,  "  borrow  a  few  yarns  of 
your  old  friend  that  used  to  print  your  letters  in  the 
Gineral's  time,  away  down  east.  You've  done  him 
many  a  good  turn  afore  now,  and  turn  about  is  fair 
play." 

"Very  well,"  says  I,  "Mr.  Burgess,  if  that's  your 
view  of  the  case,  go  ahead ;  the  book  shall  be  ready 
for  you  to-morrow." 

And  that's  the  reason  how  this  book  come  to  light. 

MAJOR  JACK  DOWNING. 


JACK   DOWNING  S   LETTERS.' 

ANOTHER  PREFACE 

BY  THE  PUBLISHERS. 


IN  laying  before  the  public  a  work  from  so  distin 
guished  a  personage  as  the  original  Major  Jack  Down 
ing,  the  Publishers  feel  the  importance  and  the  respon 
sibility  of  the  position  in  which  they  are  placed,  and 
the  high  duty  they  owe  in  the  matter  both  to  the  pres 
ent  generation  and  to  remote  posterity.  They  would, 
therefore,  enter  on  their  duties  with  a  formality  and  a 
seriousness,  befitting  the  occasion,  and  with  a  just  sense 
of  the  delicate  relation  they  hold  to  the  great  author 
and  the  great  public. 

We  deem  it  important,  in  the  prefatory  remarks 
which  we  feel  it  our  duty  to  make  on  this  occasion,  to 
give  a  brief  history  of  Downing  literature  ;  for  we  con 
tend  that  there  is  a  Downing  literature  in  the  country, 
of  a  distinctive  character,  and  that  the  original  Major 
Jack  Downing,  was  the  founder  and  the  head  of  the 
school.  We  feel  bound  to  go  into  this  examination  the 
more,  because  the  matter  has  been  greatly  mystified  in 
the  eyes  of  the  public,  and  unless  something  is  done  to 
brush  away  the  clouds  of  error  which  have  been  gath 
ered  about  it,  there  is  great  danger  that  posterity  may 
never  see  the  subject  in  its  true  light. 

To  enter  at  once,  therefore,  into  the  merits  of  the 
case,  we  find  it  abundantly  proved  from  authentic 


.JACK   DOWNIXG  S    LETTERS.  7 

records,  that  Major  Jack  Downing  was  born  in  Down- 
ingville,  in  the  State  of  Maine.  The  precise  location 
of  this  now  somewhat  celebrated  village,  is  described 
by  the  Major  himself,  in  the  volume  of  his  life  and 
writings,  published  about  ten  years  ago  in  Boston,  by 
Lilly,  Waite  &  Co.,  as  being  "  jest  about  in  the  middle 
of  down  east."  It  is  a  moderate  day's  ride  from  Poo- 
duck,  leaving  Spurwink  on  the  left,  and  is  represented 
by  all  travellers  who  have  visited  it,  as  being  one  of 
the  most  delightful  villages  in  the  world,  and  remarka 
ble  for  the  quiet  and  orderly  character  of  its  inhabitants, 
and  their  hearty  and  unaffected  hospitality  to  strangers. 

In  January,  1830,  the  Major,  who  was  then  only 
plain  Mr.  Jack  Downing,  "made  a  sort  of  a  professional 
visit  to  Portland,  the  capital  of  the  State ;  that  is  to  say, 
he  "loaded  up  with  axe-handles,  bean-poles,  and  so  on, 
hitched  on  the  old  horse,  and  driv  down  to  Portland 
to  sell."  Here,  a  combination  of  circumstances,  most 
fortunately  for  the  world,  drew  him  into  the  paths  of 
literature,  legislation,  and  military  science.  The 
market  was  dull,  he  could  not  dispose  of  his  wares, 
and  held  on  two  or  three  weeks,  having  "  put  up  at 
Ant  Sally's,"  to  see  if  prices  would  not  improve. 

In  the  mean  time,  he  visited  the  Legislature  of  the 
State,  which  was  then  in  session  in  Portland,  under  re 
markable  circumstances.  The  two  political  parties 
were  so  evenly  balanced,  that  both  claimed  the  ascen 
dancy  in  the  Legislature,  but  neither  could  obtain  it. 
The  House  was  so  nearly  divided,  that  it  depended 
upon  one  or  two  contested  seats  to  turn  the  scale  one 
way  or  the  other.  The  two  parties  in  the  Senate 
were  exactly  equal  in  numbers,  and  it  was  not  known 
who  had  been  chosen  Governor,  nor  could  the  votes  be 


8  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

counted  till  the  Legislature  was  organized.  In  this 
state  of  things  the  two  parties  fought  valiantly  for  every 
inch  of  ground,  and  it  was  six  weeks  after  the  Legisla- 
met  before  they  succeeded  in  organizing  the  govern 
ment  for  the  year. 

Here  was  the  match  which  fired  the  magazine  of  Mr. 
Downing's  intellect.  Here  his  first  letter  to  his  friends 
in  Downingville,  the  first  letter  he  ever  wrote,  went  up 
like  a  rocket,  and  shed  light  over  the  surrounding 
country.  Here  was  laid  the  corner-stone  of  the  temple 
of  Downing  literature.  As  an  interesting  and  impor 
tant  record  in  the  history  of  letters,  and  belles -tetters, 
in  this  country,  it  is  deemed  highly  proper  that  that  let 
ter  should  be  here  inserted.  We  have  accordingly 
taken  the  trouble  to  procure  an  exact  and  authentica 
ted  copy,  and  here  it  is. 

[The  first  Downing  letter  ever  written.] 

Portland,  Monday,  Jan.  18, 1830. 
To  Cousin  Ephraim  Downing  up  in  Downingville, 

DEAR  COUSIN  EPHRAIM, — I  now  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  let 
you  know  that  I  am  well,  hoping  these  few  lines  will  find  you 
enjoying  the  same  blessing.  When  I  come  down  to  Portland 
I  didn't  think  o'  staying  more  than  three  or  four  days,  if  I 
could  sell  my  load  of  ax  handles,  and  mother's  cheese,  and 
cousin  Nabby's  bundle  of  footings;  but  when  I  got  here  I 
found  uncle  Nat  was  gone  a  freighting  down  to  Quoddy,  and 
ant  Sally  said  as  how  I  shouldn't  stir  a  step  home  till  he  come 
back  agin,  which  wont  be  this  month.  So  here  I  am,  loitering 
about  this  great  town,  as  lazy  as  an  ox.  Ax  handles  don't  fetch 
nothing,  I  couldn't  hardly  give  'em  away.  Tell  cousin  Nabbv 
I  sold  her  footings  for  nine-pence  a  pair,  and  took  it  all  in 
cotton  cloth.  Mother's  cheese  come  to  five-and-sixpence  ;  I 
got  her  half  a  pound  of  shushon,  and  two  ounces  of  snuff, 
and  the  rest  in  sugar.  When  uncle  Nat  comes  home  I  shall 
put  my  ax  handles  aboard  of  him,  and  let  him  take  'em  to 
Boston  next  time  he  goes ;  I  saw  a  feller  tother  day,  that  told 
me  they'd  fetch  a  good  price  there. — I've  been  here  now  a 
whole  fortnight,  and  if  I  could  tBll  ye  one  half  I've  seen,  I 


JACK  DOWNLNG'S  LETTERS.  9 

guess  you'd  stare  worse  than  if  you'd  seen  a  catamount.  I've 
been  to  meeting,  and  to  the  museum,  and  to  both  Legislators, 
the  one  they  call  the  House,  and  the  one  they  call  the  Sinnet. 
1  spose  uncle  Joshua  is  in  a  great  hurry  to  hear  something 
about  these  Legislaters  ;  for  you  know  he's  always  reading 
newspapers,  and  talking  politics,  when  he  can  get  any  body 
to  talk  with  him.  I've  seen  him,  when  he  had  five  tons  of  hay 
in  the  field  well  made,  and  a  heavy  shower  coming  up,  stand 
two  hours  disputing  with  Squire  VV.  about  Adams  and  Jack 
son,  one  calling  Adams  a  tory  and  a  fed,  and  the  other  saying 
Jackson  was  a  murderer  and  a  fool  ;  so  they  kept  it  up,  till 
the  rain  began  to  pour  down,  and  about  spoilt  all  his  hay. 

Uncle  Joshua  may  set  his  heart  at  rest  about  the  bushel  of 
corn  that  he  bet  long  with  the  post-master,  that  Mr.  Ruggles 
would  be  Speaker  of  that  Legislater,  they  call  the  House  ; 
for  he's  lost  it,  slick  as  a  whistle.  As  I  hadn't  much  to  do, 
I've  been  there  every  day  since  they've  been  a  setting.  A 
Mr.  White  of  Monmouth  was  the  Speaker  the  two  first  days  ; 
and  I  can't  Sc;e  why  they  didn't  keep  him  in  all  the  time ;  for 
he  seemed  to  be  a  very  clever  good-natured  sort  of  man,  and 
he  had  such  a  smooth  pleasant  way  with  him,  that  I  couldn't 
help  feeling  sorry  when  they  turned  him  out  and  put  in 
another.  But  some  said  he  wasn't  put  in  hardly  fair;  and  I 
dont  know  as  he  was,  for  the  first  day  when  they  were  all 
coming  in  and  crowding  round,  there  was  a  large  fat  man, 
with  a  round,  full,  jolly  sort  of  a  face,  I  suppose  he  was  the 
captain,  for  he  got  up  and  commanded  them  to  come  to  order, 
and  then  he  told  this  Mr.  White  to  whip  into  the  chair  quicker 
than  you  could  say  Jack  Robinson.  Some  of  'em  scolded 
about  it,  and  I  heard,  some  in  a  little  room  they  called  the 
lobby,  say  'twas  a  mean  trick ;  but  I  couldn't  see  why,  for  I 
thought  Mr.  White  made  a  capital  Speaker,  and  when  our 
company  turns  out  you  know  the  captain  always  has  a  right 
to  do  as  he's  a  mind  to. 

They  kept  disputing  most  all  the  time  the  two  first  days 
about  a  poor  Mr.  Roberts  from  Waterborough.  Some  said 
he  shouldn't  have  a  seat,  because  he  adjourned  the  town  meet 
ing,  and  wasn't  fairly  elected.  Others  said  it  was  no  such 
thing,  and  that  he  was  elected  as  fairly  as  any  of  'em.  And 
Mr.  Roberts  himself  said  he  was,  and  said  he  could  bring  men 
that  would  swear  to  it,  and  good  men  too.  But  notwithstand 
ing  all  this,  when  they  came  to  vote,  they  got  three  or  four 
majority  that  he  shouldn't  have  a  seat.  And  I  thought  it  a 
needless  piece  of  cruelty,  for  they  want  crowded,  and  there 
was  a  number  of  seats  empty.  But  they  would  have  it  so, 
and  the  poor  man  had  to  go  and  staiK3  up  in  the  lobby. 


10  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

Then  they  disputed  awhile  about  a  Mr.  Fowler's  having  a 
seat.  Some  said  he  shouldn't  have  a  seat,  because  when  he 
was  elected  some  of  his  votes  were  given  for  his  father.  But 
they  were  more  kind  to  him  than  they  were  to  Mr.  Roberts  ; 
for  they  voted  that  he  should  have  a  seat;  and  I  suppose  it 
was  because  they  thought  he  had  a  lawful  right  to  inherit 
whatever  was  his  father's.  They  all  declared  there  was  no 
party  politics  about  it,  and  I  don't  think  there  was;  for  I 
noticed  that  all  who  voted"  that  Mr.  Roberts  should  have  a  seat, 
voted  that  Mr.  Fowler  should  not ;  and  all  who  voted  that  Mr. 
Roberts  should  not  have  a  seat,  voted  that  Mr.  Fowler  should. 
So,  as  they  all  voted  both  ways,  they  must  have  acted  as  their 
consciences  told  them,  and  I  dont  see  how  there  could  be  any 
party  about  it. 

It's  a  pity  the}r  couldn't  be  allowed  to  have  two  speakers, 
for  they  seemed  to  be  very  anxious  to  choose  Mr.  Ruggles 
and  Mr.  Goodenow.  They  too  had  every  vote,  except  one, 
and  if  they  had  had  that,  I  believe  they  both  would  have  been 
chosen ;  as  it  was,  however,  they  both  came  within  a  hum- 
bird's  eye  of  it.  Whether  it  was  Mr.  Ruggles  that  voted  for 
Mr.  Goodenow,  or  Mr.  Goodenow  for  Mr.  Ruggles,  I  can't 
exactly  tell ;  but  I  rather  guess  it  was  Mr.  Ruggles  voted  for 
Mr.  Goodenow,  for  he  appeared  to  be  very  glad  that  Mr. 
Goodenow  was  elected,  and  went  up  to  him  soon  after  Mr. 
Goodenow  took  the  chair,  and  shook  hands  with  him  as  good 
natured  as  could  be.  I  would  have  given  half  my  load  of  ax 
handles,  if  they  could  both  have  been  elected  and  set  up  there 
together,  they  would  have  been  so  happy.  But  as  they  can't 
have  but  one  speaker  at  a  time,  and  as  Mr.  Goodenow  appears 
to  understand  the  business  very  well,  it  is  not  likely  Mr. 
Ruggles  will  be  speaker  any  this  winter.  So  uncle  Joshua 
will  have  to  shell  out  his  bushel  of  corn,  and  I  hope  it  will 
learn  him  better  than  to  bet  about  politics  again.  If  he  had 
not  been  a  goose,  he  might  have  known  he  would  loose  it, 
even  if  he  had  been  ever  so  sure  of  getting  it ;  for  in  these 
politics  there's  never  any  telling  which  way  the  cat  will  jump. 
You  know,  before  the  last  September  election,  some  of  the 
papers  that  came  to  our  town  had  found  out  that  Mr.  Hunlon 
would  have  five  thousand  majority  of  the  votes.  And  some 
of  the  other  papers  had  found  out  that  Mr.  Smith  would  have 
five  thousand  majority.  But  the  cat  jumped  'tother  way  to 
both  of  'em  ;  for  I  can't  find  yet  as  either  of  'em  has  got  any 
majority.  Some  say  Mr.  Hunton  has  got  a  little  majority,  but 
as  far  from  five  thousand  as  I  am  from  home.  And  as  for 
Mr.  Smith  they  don't  think  he  has  any  majority  at  all.  You 
remember,  too,  before  I  came  from  home,  some  of  the  papers 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  11 

said  how  there  was  a  majority  of  ten  or,  fifteen  national  re 
publicans,  in  the  Legislator,  and  the  other  papers  said  there 
was  a  pretty  clever  little  majority  of  democratic  republicans. 
Well,  now  every  body  says  it  has  turned  out  jest  as  that  queer 
little  paper,  called  the  the  Daily  Courier,  said  'twould.  That 
paper  said  it  was  such  a  close  rub,  it  couldn't  hardly  tell 
which  side  would  beat.  And  it's  jest  so,  for  they've  been 
here  now  mott  a  fortnight  acting  jest  like  two  boys  play  in  see 
saw  on  a  rail.  First  one  goes  up,  then  'tother  ;  but  I  reckon 
one  of  the  boys  is  rather  heaviest,  for  once  in  awhile  he 
comes  down  chuck,  and  throws  the  other  up  into  the  air  as 
though  he  would  pitch  him  head  over  heels. 

In  that  'tother  Legislater  they  call  the  Sinnet,  there  has 
been  some  of  the  drollest  carryius  on  that  you  ever  heard  of. 
If  I  can  get  time  I'll  write  you  something  about  it,  pretty 
soon.  So  I  subscribe  myself,  in  haste,  your  loving  cousin 
till  death. 

JACK  DOWNING. 

Four  days  after  the  date  of  the  above  letter,  Mr. 
Downing  wrote  another  letter  to  his  Uncle  Joshua,  of 
Downingville,  who  had  in  the  mean  time  "  loaded  up" 
with  turkies  and  "apple  sass,"  and  pushed  off  to  Bos 
ton,  from  which  place  he  addressed  the  following  letter 
to  his  nephew  in  Portland. 

Letter  from  Joshua  Downing,  in  Boston,  to  his  nephew,  Jack 
Downing,  in  Portland. 

DEAR  NEPHEW, — I  left  home  just  after  your  letter  to  your 
cousin  Ephraim  got  there,  and  I  didn't  get  a  sight  of  your 
letter  to  me  that  you  put  into  the  Courier  at  Portland,  until 
I  saw  it  in  the  Daily  Advertiser  in  Boston,  and  1  guess  Mr. 
Hale  is  the  only  person  in  Boston  who  takes  that  are  little 
Courier,  so  you  was  pretty  safe  about  the  letter  not  being 
seen,  as  the  printer  promised  you.  How  1  happened  to  see 
it  here,  you  will  find  out  before  I  have  got  through  with  this 
letter.  I  guess  you  wont  be  a  little  struck  up  when  you  find 
out  that  I'm  in  Boston — but  I  had  best  begin  at  the  beginning 
and  then  I  shall  get  thro'  quicker. 

After  seeing  your  letter  to  Ephraim  as  I  said  before,  I  con 
cluded  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  scheme  to  tackle  up  and  take  a 
load  of  turkies,  some  apple-sauce,  and  other  notions  that  the 
neighbors  wanted  to  get  to  market,  and  as  your  uncle  Nat 
would  be  in  Boston  with  the  ax  handles,  we  all  thought  best 


12  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

to  try  our  luck  there.  Nothing  happened  worth  mentioning 
on  the  road,  nor  till  next  morning  after  I  got  here  and  put  up 
in  Elm  street.  I  then  got  off  my  watch  pretty  curiously,  as 
you  shall  be  informed.  I  was  down  in  the  bar  room,  and 
tho't  it  well  enough  to  look  pretty  considerable  smart,  and 
now  and  then  compared  my  watch  with  the  clock  in  the  bar, 
•'and  found  it  as  near  right  as  it  ever  was — when  a  feller  stept. 
up  to  me  and  ask't  how  I'd  trade  ]  and  says  I,  for  what  ?  and 
s  lys  he,  for  your  watch — and  says  1,  any  way  that  will  be  a 
fair  shake — upon  that  says  he,  I'll  give  you  my  watch  and  five 
dollars. — Says  I,  its  done  !  He  gave  me  the  five  dollars,  and 
1  gave  him  my  watch.  Now,  says  I,  give  me  your  watch — 
and  says  he,  with  a  loud  laugh,  I  han't  got  none — and  that 
kind  aturn'd  the  laugh  on  me.  Thinks  I,  let  them  laugh  that 
lose.  Soon  as  the  laugh  was  well  over,  the  feller  thought 
he'd  try  the  watch  to  his  ear — why,  says  he,  it  dont  go — no, 
says  I,  not  without  its  carried — then  I  began  to  laugh — he 
tried  to  open  it  and  couldn't  start  it  a  hair,  and  broke  his 
thumb  nail  in  the  bargain.  Won't  she  open,  says  he  ?  Not's 
I  know  on,  says  I — and  then  the  laugh  seemed  to  take  anoth- 
§r  turn. 

Don't  you  think  I  got  off  the  old  Brittania  pretty  well,  con- 
sidrin  1  And  then  I  thought  I'd  go  and  see  about  my  load  of 
turkies  and  other  notions.  I  expected  to  have  gone  all  over 
town  to  sell  my  load,  but  Mr.  Doolittle  told  me  if  I'd  go  down 
to  the  new  market,  I  should  find  folks  enough  to  buy  all  I  had 
at  once.  So  down  I  goes,  and  a  likely  kind  of  a  feller,  with 
an  eye  like  a  hawk  and  quick  as  a  steeltrap  for  a  trade,  (they 
called  him  a  4th  staller,)  came  up  to  the  wagon,  and  before 
you  could  say  Jack  Robinson,  we  struck  a  bargain  for  the 
whole  cargo — and  come  to  weigh  and  reckon  up,  I  found  I 
should  get  as  much  as  10s6d  more  than  any  of  us  calculated 
before  I  left  home,  and  had  the  apple-sauce  left  besides.  So 
I  thought  I'd  jist  see  how  this  4th  staller  worked  his  card  to 
be  able  to  give  us  so  good  a  price  for  the  turkies,  and  I  went 
inside  the  market-house,  and  a  grander  sight  I  never  expect 
to  see  !  But  it  was  the  3d  staller  instead  of  the  4th,  had  my 
turkies  all  sorted  and  hung  up,  and  looking  so  much  better 
that  I  hardly  should  know  'em.  Pretty  soon,  a  gentleman 
asked  the  3d  staller  what  he  asked  for  turkies  ]  Why,  says 
he,  if  you  want  something  better  than  you  ever  saw  before, 
there's  some  'twas  killed  last  night  purpose  for  you.  You 
may  take  'em  at  9d,  being  it's  you.  I'll  give  you  12  cents, 
said  the  gentleman,  as  I've  got  some  of  the  General  Court  to 
dine  with  me,  and  must  treat  well.  I  shant  stand  for  half  a 
cent  with  an  old  customar,  says  he.  And  so  they  traded  ; 


JACK  DOWNLSTG'S  LETTERS.  13 

and  in  about  the  space  of  half  an  hour  or  more,  all  my  turkieg 
went  into  baskets  at  that  rate.  The  4th  staller  gave  me  6d 
a  pound,  and  I  began  to  think  I'd  been  a  little  too  much  in  a 
hurry  for  trade — but's  no  use  to  cry  for  spilt  milk.  Then  I 
went  up  to  the  State  House  to  see  what  was  going  on  there ; 
but  I  thought  I'd  get  off  my  apple-sauce  on  my  way — and  see 
ing  a  sign  of  old  clothes  bartered,  I  stepped  in  and  made  a 
trade,  and  got  a  whole  suit  of  superfine  black  broadcloth  from 
top  to  toe,  for  a  firkin  of  apple-sauce,  (which  didn't  cost  much 
I  guess,  at  home.) 

Accordingly  I  rigged  myself  up  in  the  new  suit,  and  you'd 
hardly  known  me.  I  didn't  like  the  set  of  the  shoulders,  they 
were  so  dreadful  puckery  ;  but  the  man  said  that  was  all 
right.  I  guess  he  '11  find  the  apple-sauce  full  as  puckery 
when  he  gets  down  into  it — -but  that's  between  ourselves. 
Well,  when  I  got  up  to  the  State  House  I  found  them  at  work 
on  the  rail  road — busy  enough  I  can  tell  you — they  got  a  part 
of  it  made  already.  I  found  most  all  the  folks  kept  their  hats 
on  except  the  man  who  was  talking  out  loud  and  the  man  he 
was  talking  to — all  the  rest  seemed  to  be  busy  about  their 
own  consarns.  As  I  didn't  see  any  body  to  talk  to  I  kept  my 
hat  on  and  took  a  seat,  and  look'd  round  to  see  what  was  go 
ing  on.  I  hadn't  been  setting  long  before  I  saw  a  slick-head 
ed,  sharp-eyed  little  man,  who  seemed  to  have  the  principal 
management  of  the  folks,  looking  at  me  pretty  sharp,  as  much 
as  to  say  who  are  you!  but  I  said  nothing  and  looked  tother 
way — at  last  he  touched  me  on  the  shoulder — I  thought  he 
was  feeling  of  the  puckers.  Are  you  a  member  '?  says  he — 
sartin  says  I — how  long  have  you  taken  your  seat!  says  he. 
About  ten  minutes,  says  I.  Are  you  qualified  ?  says  he.  I 
guess  not,  says  I.  And  then  he  left  me.  I  didn't  know  ex 
actly  what  this  old  gentleman  was  after — but  soon  he  return 
ed  and  said  it  was  proper  for  me  to  be  qualified  before  I  took 
a  seat,  and  I  must  go  before  the  governor  !  By  Jing  !  I  never 
felt  so  before  in  all  my  born  days.  As  good  luck  would  have 
it.  he  was  beckoned  to  come  to  a  man  at  the  desk,  and  as  soon  as 
his  back  was  turned  I  give  him  the  slip.  Jest  as  I  was  going 
olf,  the  gentleman  who  bought  my  turkies  of  the  4th  staller 
took  hold  of  my  arm,  and  I  was  afraid  at  first  that  he  was  go 
ing  to  carry  me  to  the  Governor — but  he  began  to  talk  as  so 
ciable  as  if  we  had  been  old  acquaintances.  How  long  have 
vou  been  in  the  house,  Mr.  Smith,  says  he.  My  name  is 
Downing,  said  I.  I  beg  your  pardon,  says  he — I  mean 
Downing.  It's  no  offence,  says  I.  I  haven't  been  here  long. 
Then  says  he  in  a  very  pleasant  way,  a  few  of  your  brother 
members  are  to  take  pot-luck  with  me  to-day,  and  I  should  be 


14  JACK    DOWXING'S    LETTERS. 

happy  to  have  you  join  them.  What's  pot-luck,  said  I.  O,  a 
family  dinner,  says  he — no  ceremony.  I  thought  by  this  time 
I  was  well  qualified  for  that  without  going  to  the  Governor. 
So  says  I,  yes,  and  thank  ye  too.  How  long  before  you'll 
want  me,  says  I.  At  3  o'clock,  says  he,  and  gave  me  a  piece 
of  paste  board  with  his  name  on  it — and  the  name  of  the 
street,  and  the  number  of  his  house,  and  said  that  would  show 
me  the  way.  Well,  says  I,  I  dont  know  of  nothing  that  will 
keep  me  away.  And  then  we  parted.  I  took  considerable 
liking  to  him. 

After  strolling  round  and  seeing  a  great  many  things  about 
the  State  House  and  the  marble  immage  of  Gin.  Washington, 
standing  on  a  stump  in  the  Porch,  I  went  out  into  the  street 
they  call  Bacon  street,  and  my  stars  !  what  swarms  of  women 
folks  I  saw  all  drest  up  as  if  they  were  going  to  meeting. 
You  can  tell  cousin  Polly  Sandburn,  who  you  know  is  no 
slimster,  that  she  needn't  take  on  so  about  being  genteel  in 
her  shapes — for  the  genteelest  ladies  here  beat  her  as  to  size 
all  hollow.  I  dont  believe  one  of  'em  could  get  into  our  fore 
dore — and  as  for  their  arms — I  shouldn't  want  better  measure 
for  a  bushel  of  meal  than  one  of  their  sleeves  could  hold.  I 
shant  shell  out  the  bushel  of  corn  you  say  I've  lost  on  Speak 
er  Ruggles  at  that  rate.  But  this  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  din 
ner  which  Mr. wants  I  should  help  the  Gineral  Court 

eat.  So  I  took  out  the  piece  of  paste  board,  and  began  to  in 
quire  my  way  and  got  along  completely,  and  found  the  num 
ber  the  first  time — but  the  door  was  locked,  and  there  was  no 
knocker,  and  I  thumpt  with  my  whip  handle,  but  nobody  come. 
And  says  I  to  a  man  going  by,  dont  nobody  live  here  ?  and 
says  he  yes.  Well,  how  do  you  get  in  1  Why,  says  he  ring; 
and  says  I,  ring  what  1  And  says  he,  the  bell.  And  says  I, 
where's  the  rope  1  And  says  he,  pull  that  little  brass  nub  ; 
and  so  I  gave  it  a  twitch,  and  I'm  sure  a  bell  did  ring;  and 
who  do  you  think  opened  the  door  with  a  white  apron  afore 
him  f  You  couldn't  guess  jor  a  week  a  Sundays — so  I'll  tell 
you.  It  was  Stephen  Furlong,  who  kept  our  district  school  last 
winter,  for  5  dollars  a  month,  and  kept  bachelor's  hall,  and 
helped  tend  for  Gineral  Coombs  a  training  day,  and  make  out 
muster  rolls.  We  was  considerably  struck  up  at  first,  both  of 
us  ;  and  when  he  found  I  was  going  to  eat  dinner  with  Mr. 

and  Gineral  Court,  he  thought  it  queer  kind  of  doings 

— but  says  be,  I  guess  it  will  be  as  well  for  both  of  us  not  to 
know  each  other  a  bit  more  than  we  can  help.  And  savs  I, 
with  a  wink,  you're  half  right,  and  in  I  went.  There  "was 

nobody  in  the  room  but  Mr.  and  his  wife,  and  not  a 

sign  of  any  dinner  to  be  seen  any  where — though  I  thought 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTEKS.  15 

now  and  then  when  a  side  door  opened,  I  could  smell  cup 
board,  as  they  say. 

I  thought  I  should  be  puzzled  enough  to  know  what  to  say, 

but  I  hadn't  my  thoughts  long  to  myself.  Mr. has 

about  as  nimble  a  tongue  as  you  ever  heard,  and  could  say 
ten  words  to  my  one,  and  I  had  nothing  to  do  in  the  way  of 
making  talk.  Just  then  I  heard  a  ringing,  and  Stephen  was 
busy  opening  the  door  and  letting  in  the  Gineral  Court,  who 
all  had  their  hats  off,  and  looking  pretty  scrumptious,  you 
may  depend.  I  didn't  see  but  I  could  stand  along  side  of  'em 
without  disparagement,  except  to  my  boots,  which  had  just 
got  a  lick  of  beeswax  and  tallow — not  a  mite  of  dinner  yet, 
and  I  began  to  feel  as  if  'twas  nearer  supper-time  than  dinner 
time — when  all  at  once  two  doors  flew  away  from  each  other 
right  into  the  wall,  and  what  did  I  see  but  one  of  the  grand 
est  thanksgiving  dinners  you  ever  laid  your  eyes  on — and 
lights  on  the  table,  and  silver  candlesticks  and  gold  lamps 
over  head — the  window  shutters  closed — I  guess  more  than 
one  of  us  stared  at  first,  but  we  soon  found  the  way  to  our 
mouths — I  made  Stephen  tend  out  for  me  pretty  sharp,  and  he 
got  my  plate  filled  three  or  four  times  with  soup,  which  beat 
all  I  ever  tasted.  I  shan't  go  through  the  whole  dinner  again 
to  you — but  I  am  mistaken  if  it  cost  me  much  for  victuals 
this  week,  if  I  pay  by  the  meal  at  Mr.  Doolittle's,  who  comes 
pretty  near  up  to  a  thanksgiving  every  day.  There  was  con 
siderable  talk  about  stock  and  manufactories,  and  Her  bilities, 
and  rimidies,  and  a  great  loss  on  stock.  I  thought  this  a  good 
chance  for  me  to  put  in  a  word — for  I  calculated  I  knew  as 
much  about  raising  stock  and  keeping  over  as  any  of  'em. 

Says  I  to  Mr. ,  there's  one  thing  I've  always  observed 

in  my  experience  in  stock — just  as  sure  as  you  try  to  keep 
over  more  stock  than  you  have  fodder  to  carry  them  well  into 
April,  one  half  will  die  on  your  hands,  to  a  sartinty — and 
there's  no  remedy  for  it — I've  tried  it  out  and  out,  and  there's 
no  law  that  can  make  a  ton  of  hay  keep  over  ten  cows,  unless 
you  have  more  carrots  and  potatoes  than  you  can  throw  a 
stick  at.  This  made  some  of  the  folks  stare  who  didn't  know 
much  about  stock — and  Steve  give  me  a  jog,  as  much  as  to 
say,  keep  quiet.  He  thought  I  was  gitting  into  a  quog-mire, 
and  soon  after,  giving  me  a  wink,  opened  the  door  and  got  me 
out  of  the  room  into  the  entry. 

After  we  had  got  out  of  hearing,  says  I  to  Steve,  how  are 
you  getting  on  in  the  world — should  you  like  to  come  back  to 
keep  our  school  if  I  could  get  a  vote  for  you  1 — not  by  two 
chalks,  says  Steve — I  know  which  side  my  bread  is  buttered 
better  than  all  that — I  get  12  dollars  a  month  and  found,  and 


16  JACK   DOWNING 'S   LETTERS. 

now  and  then  some  old  clothes,  which  is  better  than  keeping 
school  at  5  dollars  and  find  myself,  and  work  out  my  highway 
tax  besides — then  turning  up  the  cape  of  my  new  coat,  says 
he,  I  guess  I've  dusted  that  before  now — most  likely,  says  I, 
but  not  in  our  district  school.  And  this  brings  to  mind  to  tell 
you  how  I  got  a  sight  of  your  letter.  They  tell  me  here  that 
every  body  reads  the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser,  because  there 
is  no  knowing  but  what  they  may  find  out  something  to  their 
advantage,  so  I  thought  I  would  be  as  wise  as  the  rest  of 
them,  and  before  I  got  half  through  with  it,  what  should  I  find 
mixed  up  among  the  news  but  your  letter  that  you  put  into 
that  little  paper  down  in  Portland,  and  I  knew  it  was  your 
writing  before  I  had  read  ten  lines  of  it. 

I  hope  I've  answered  it  to  your  satisfaction. 

Your  respectful  uncle, 

JOSHUA  DOWNING. 

P.  S.  Mr.  Topliff  says  your  uncle  Nat  is  telegraphed,  but 
I'm  afraid  the  axe  handles  wont  come  to  much — I  find  the 
Boston  folks  make  a  handle  of  most  anything  they  can  lay 
hold  of,  and  just  as  like  as  not  they'll  make  a  handle  of  our 
private  letters,  if  they  should  see  them. 

N.  B.  You  spell  dreadful  bad,  according  to  my  notion — 
and  this  proves  what  I  always  said,  that  our  district  has  been 
going  down  hill  ever  since  Stephen  Furlong  left  it. 

A  thing  may  sometimes  be  great  from  the  force  of  cir 
cumstances,  when  intrinsically  considered,  without  the 
aid  of  those  circumstances,  it  might  not  attract  unusual 
noention.  It  was  so  in  some  degree  with  the  first  let 
ter  of  Mr.  Downing.  Here  were  the  elected  represen 
tatives  of  a  sovereign  State,  without  law  or  order,  jang 
ling  and  quarrelling  for  weeks  without  being  able  to 
choose  their  own  presiding  officers,  and  the  whole  peo 
ple  were  looking  on,  and  holding  up  their  hands  in  aw- 
ful  consternation,  expecting  to  be  left  without  a  govern 
ment,  and  to  be  overwhelmed  by  the  turbulent  waves 
of  anarchy  and  confusion. 

At  this  critical  moment  the  first  letter  of  Mr.  Down 
ing  fell  upon  the  Legislature  "  like  a  thousand  of 
brick."  It  electrified  the  people  of  Portland  and  the 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  17 

whole  State,  as  if  a  flash  of  lightning  had  burst  upon 
them  out  of  a  clear  sky  ;  it  waked  up  old  Boston  and 
set  it  in  a  roar ;  even  the  fighting  politicians  in  the  Le 
gislature  did  not  fight  with  half  the  grit  afterwards,  for 
whenever  they  attempted  to  throw  each  other  "  sky- 
high."  they  would  think  of  the  "two-boys  see-sawing 
on  a  rail,"  and  laugh  outright  in  each  other's  faces. 

In  short,  the  Downing  literature  was  planted  :  the 
soil  was  adapted  to  the  seed,  and  in  the  nature  of  things 
it  was  boundtogrow.  And  it  did  grow  and  flourish  "  like 
a  green  bay  horse."  Mr.  Downing  had  to  stay  in 
Portland  and  write  tetters  all  winter  ;  and  then  he  had 
to  stay  and  write  letters  all  summer.  His  popularity 
went  steadily  up.  He  was  nominated  in  Downingville 
for  Governor  of  the  State,  and  at  the  fall  election  re 
ceived  every  vote  in  his  native  town.  Having  devoted 
his  valuable  services  to  his  own  State  for  something 
more  than  a  year,  his  patriotism  soared  higher,  and 
took  a  wider  range.  In  May,  1831,  having  heard  of 
the  disastrous  explosion  and  resignation  of  President 
Jackson's  first  Cabinet,  with  the  most  heroic  devotion 
to  the  public  interests,  Mr.  Downing  repaired  to  Wash 
ington,  with  a  view  of  relieving  the  embarrassments  of 
the  President  by  offering  to  fill  one  of  the  vacant  Secre 
taryships. 

Unluckily,  however,  for  the  public  welfare,  before  he 
reached  Washington,  as  he  "  had  to  foot  it"  most  of  the 
way,  the  places  were  filled  by  less  efficient  and  less 
worthy  men.  Nothing  daunted,  but  inspired  by  a  grow 
ing  patriotism,  Mr.  Downing  remained  at  head  quar 
ters,  determined  that  the  country  should  have  his  ser 
vices,  whenever  they  were  wanted.  He  became  ac 
quainted  with  "  the  Gineral,"  and  that  sagacious  and 
2 


18  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

keen-sighted  warrior  and  statesman  soon  penetrated 
and  appreciated  the  high  qualities  of  Mr.  Downing. 
About  this  time  a  circumstance  occurred  which  pinned 
him  to  the  Gineral's  heart  forever. 

A  new  quarrel  had  broken  out  among  the  Cabinet 
officers.  "  A  lady  was  in  the  case,"  and  the  quarrel 
was  bitter.  Major  Eaton  challenged  Mr.  Ingham,  Sec 
retary  of  the  Treasury,  to  settle  the  matter  in  a  duel ; 
but  the  latter  gentleman  declined  the  honor.  Then 
Major  Eaton  and  a  gang  of  other  gentlemen  went  to 
Mr.  Ingham's  house  in  the  evening,  and  demanded 
that  he  should  come  out.  This  he  declined  also.  The 
gang  of  gentlemen  were  then  preparing  to  burst  open 
the  door  and  drag  him  out.  At  this  crisis  Mr.  Down 
ing  mounted  Mr.  Ingham's  door-steps,  threw  off  his  hat 
and  coat,  rolled  up  his  sleeves,  struck  his  fists  together, 
and  told  them  "  to  come  on,  one  to  time,  or  all  in  a 
bunch,  he  didn't  care  which  ;  but  before  they  should 
break  open  the  door  of  a  peaceable  man  who  was  stay- 
ing  in  his  house  as  quiet  as  a  lamb,  with' his  wife  and 
children,  they  should  climb  over  his  dead  body."  This 
settled  the  hash  ;  for,  according  to  the  history  of  the 
affair  given  by  Mr.  Downing  at  the  time,  in  a  letter  to 
the  Portland  Courier,  "  Major  Eaton  and  the  whole 
gang  of  gentlemen  with  him  turned  right  about  and 
marched  away  as  still  as  a  pack  of  whipped  puppies." 
From  this  time  "  the  Gineral"  hugged  Mr.  Downing 
to  his  bosom  and  made  him  his  right  hand  man  ever 
afterwards. 

In  October,  1831,  a  dark  cloud,  full  of  thunder  and 
war  appeared  "away  down  east,"  hanging  over  the 
"  disputed  territory"  in  the  State  of  Maine,  and  Presi 
dent  Jackson  gave  Mr.  Downing  a  Captain's  commis- 


JACK    DOWNING 'S    LETTERS.  19 

sion  in  the  Army,  with  the  instructions  to  raise  a  com- 
pany  of  volunteers  in  Downingville,  and  go  down  to  the 
disputed  territory,  flog  the  British  and  make  fair  weath 
er.  Capt.  Downing  performed  the  expedition,  and  set 
tled  the  business  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties. 

Capt.  Downing  could  now  receive  any  thing  from 
the  President  which  he  chose  to  ask,  for  himself  and 
friends.  He  was,  however,  very  modest  and  moderate 
in  his  reception  of  favors,  and  only  allowed  the  Presi 
dent  to  appoint  that  staunch  patriot,  "  uncle  Joshua 
Downing"  to  the  honorable  position  of  Post  Master  of 
Downingville ;  a  position  which,  much  to  the  credit  of 
succeeding  administrations,  he  holds  to  this  day. 

In  December,  1832,  the  horid  monster  of  Nullifica- 
tien  raised  its  head  in  South  Carolina,  and  threatened 
to  bite  off  the  head  of  the  government.  President  Jack 
son,  who  was  always  equal  to  every  emergency,  at 
once  gave  Captain  Downing  a  Major's  commission,  and 
told  him  to  take  care  of  South  Carolina,  and  drive  Nul 
lification  into  the  «Gulf  of  Mexico.  No  man  under 
stood  the  nature  of  Nullification,  or  how  to  cure  it,  bet 
ter  than  Major  Downing,  as  was  abundantly  proved  in 
his  celebrated  account  of  carrying  a  raft  of  logs  over 
Sebago  pond. 

It  appears,  on  receiving  a  major's  commission,  that 
Mr.  Downing's  military  ambition  was  satisfied;  for 
when  the  President  afterwards  desired  him  to  take  the 
appointment  of  colonel  in  the  army,  he  declined,  say 
ing,  he  much  preferred  the  title  of  Major.  However, 
it  mattered  little  what  his  nominal  rank  might  be,  he 
was  the  master-spirit  that  sustained  the  administration 
of  "the  Gineral"  in  those  trying  times,  and  carried 
him  safely  through  the  storm  of  Nullification,  the 
fight  with  the  bank  monster,  and  many  other  difficulties. 


20  JACK  DOWNING' s  LETTERS. 

But  we  find  this  subject  growing  on  our  hands,  and 
the  father  we  go  the  more  prolific  it  becomes.  We  did 
not  sit  down  to  write  a  biography  of  Major  Downing — 
we  trust  that  important  work  will  be  committed  to  abler 
and  better  hands — our  object  was  mainly  to  throw  a 
little  light  on  the  origin  and  progress  of  Downing  lite 
rature,  and  to  correct  certain  errors  which  tradition  had 
fallen  into,  and  which  were  in  danger  of  being  per 
petuated  on  the  page  of  history.  Suffice  it  to  say  here, 
that  on  receiving  his  commission  and  the  orders  from 
the  President  to  "  take  care  of  South  Carolina,"  Major 
Downing  ordered  his  faithful  cousin  Sargeant  Joel 
Downing,  to  repair  immediately  to  Washington  with 
his  invincible  Downingville  company. 

Having  drawn  up  his  Downingville  forces  at  Wash 
ington,  the  major  stood  ready  at  a  moment's  warning  to 
pounce  upon  S.  Carolina  the  first  instant  that  Nullifica 
tion  attempted  to  raise  its  head  against  the  government ; 
and  he  used  to  mount  upon  the  Capitol  every  day  and 
listen  to  see  if  he  could  hear  the  guns  cracking  in 
South  Carolina,  for  he  said  the  President  told  him  not 
to  strike  a  single  blow  till  South  Carolina  struck  first. 

Luckily,  however,  Mr.  Clay's  Tariff  Bill  put  Nul 
lification  to  sleep,  and  the  Major  never  had  to  come  to 
the  scratch  with  the  South  Carolina  monster.  The 
next  great  movement  of  the  Major  was  to  accompany 
"  the  Gineral"  on  his  famous  tour  "  down  east."  In 
his  letter  to  Cousin  Ephraim,  March  10,  1833,  he  in 
forms  him  that  a  project  of  that  kind  was  "a  brewin" 
and  says  "  the  President  talks  of  taking  a  journey  down 
east  this  summer,  and  he  wants  me  to  go  with  him,  be 
cause  I'm  acquainted  there,  and  can  show  him  all 
about  it.  He  has  a  great  desire  to  go  as  far  as  Down 
ingville  and  get  acquainted  with  Uncle  Joshua,  who 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  21 

has  always  stuck  by  him  in  all  weathers  through  thick 
and  thin.  The  President  thinks  that  Uncle  Joshua, 
is  one  of  the  republican  pillars  of  New  England,  and 
and  says  he  shall  always  have  the  post  office  of  Down  - 
ingville  as  long  as  he  lives,  and  his  children  after 
him." 

April  20th,  the  Major  writes  to  his  old  friend  of  the 
Portland  Courier  that  the  thing  is  all  cut  and  dried,  and 
he  and  the  Gineral  and  the  two  cabinets  are  going  to 
make  a  grand  tour  down  east.  There  was  one  diffi 
culty  in  the  way  which  he  describes  as  follows  : 

"  There  is  some  trouble  among  us  here  a  little,  to  know 
how  we  shall  get  along  among  the  federalists  when  we 
come  that  way.  They  say  the  federalists  in  Massa 
chusetts  want  to  keep  the  President  all  to  themselves 
when  he  comes  there.  But  Mr.  Van  Buren  says  that'll 
never  do  ;  he  must  stick  to  the  democratic  party  ;  he 
may  shake  hands  with  a  federalist  once  in  awhile  if  the 
democrats  don't  see  him,  but  whenever  there  is  any 
democrats  round,  he  musn't  look  at  a  federalist.  Mr. 
McLane  and  Mr.  Livingston  advise  him  t'other  way. 
They  tell  him  he'd  better  treat  the  federalists  pretty 
civil,  and  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Webster  as  quick  as 
he  would  with  Uncle  Joshua  Downing.  And  when 
they  give  this  advice  Mr.  Lewis  and  Mr.  Kendall  hop 
right  up  as  mad  as  march  hares,  and  tell  him  if  he 
shakes  hands  with  a  single  federalist  while  he  is  gone, 
the  democratic  party  will  be  ruined.  And  then  the 
President  turns  round  to  me,  and  asks  me  what  he  had 
better  do.  And  I  tell  him  that  I  guess  he  better  go 
straight  ahead,  and  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and  shake 
hands  with  whoever  he's  a  mind  to." 

Early  in  June  the  the  grand  party  got  under  way, 
and  on  the  10th  the  Major  writes  to  his  Uncle  Joshua 


22  JACK   DO  WRING'S    LETTERS. 

from  Philadelphia,  and  tells  him  "  we  are  coming  on 
full  chisel."  After  describing  the  journey  as  far  as 
Philadelphia,  the  Major  proceeds  as  follows  : 

"  They  took  us  up  into  a  great  hall  this  morning  as  big 
as  a  meeting-house,  and  then  the  folks  began  to  pour  in 
by  thousands  to  shake  hands  with  the  President ;  fede 
ralists  and  all,  it  made  no  difference.  There  was  such 
a  stream  of  em  coming  in  that  the  hall  was  full  in  a 
few  minutes,  and  it  was  so  jammed  up  round  the  door 
that  they  couldn't  get  out  again  if  they  was  to  die. 
So  they  had  to  knock  out  some  of  the  windows  and  go 
out  t'other  way." 

The  President  shook  hands  with  all  his  might  an 
hour  or  two,  till  he  got  so  tired  he  couldn't  hardly 
stand  it.  I  took  hold  and  shook  for  him  once  in  awhile, 
to  help  him  along  ;  but  at  last  he  got  so  tired  he  had  to 
lay  down  on  a  soft  bench  covered  with  cloth,  and  shake 
as  well  as  he  could,  and  when  he  couldn't  shake,  he'd 
nod  to  em  as  they  come  along.  And  at  last  he  got  so 
beat  out,  he  couldn't  only  wrinkle  his  forehead  and  wink. 
Then  I  kind  of  stood  behind  him  and  reached  my  arm 
round  under  his,  and  shook  for  him  for  about  a  half  an 
hour  as  tight  as  I  could  spring.  Then  we  conclud 
ed  it  was  best  to  adjourn  for  to-day.  And  I've  made 
out  to  get  away  up  into  the  garret  in  the  tavern  long 
enough  to  write  this  letter.  We  shall  be  off  to-mor 
row  or  next  day  for  York,  and  if  I  can  possibly  get 
breathing  time  enough  there,  I  shall  write  to  you 
again." 

On  the  13th  of  June,  1833,  the  party  arrived  in  New 
York,  and  "  got  a  ducking,"  by  the  breaking  down  of 
the  bridge  at  Castle  Garden.  The  Major  here  wrote  again 
to  his  Uncle  Joshua,  giving  a  full  account  of  the  sad 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  23 

catastrophe,  in  which  nobody  was  killed  and  nobody 
hurt,  except  about  fifty  things  they  called  "  dandies," 
which  looked  so  after  they  got  wet  he  couldn't  tell 
whether  they  were  dead  or  alive  ;  so  they  "  pulled  em 
out  and  laid  em  up  on  the  grass  to  dry  and  left  em." 

And  here  we  come  to  an  important  point,  an  era  in 
the  Downing  literature  which  requires  special  notice. 
It  was  now  nearly  three  years  and  a  half  that  Major 
Downing  had  been  serving  and  enlightening  his 
countrymen.  In  all  that  time  his  fame  had  steadily 
increased.  His  letters  were  copied  into  every  paper 
all  over  the  land,  and  his  name  was  in  every  body's 
mouth.  Next  to  GeneralJackson  he  was  decidedly  the 
most  popular  man  in  the  United  States.  Perhaps  no 
thing  is  more  calculated  to  excite  a  feeling  of  envy, 
than  great  popularity.  The  popular  man  is  like  the 
child  who  holds  a  nice  stick  of  candy  in  his  hand ;  all 
the  children  around  are  on  tiptoe  to  get  a  nibble.  It  is 
not  strange  therefore,  that  many  in  different  parts  of 
the  country  endeavored  to  get  a  taste  of  Major  Down- 
ing's  popularity  by  attempting  to  imitate  his  writings. 

But  one  individual  at  this  time  made  a  bold  and  sys 
tematic  rush  at  the  Major,  and  attempted  to  strip  his 
well-earned  laurels  from  his  brow  and  entwine  them 
round  his  own  head.  This  was  a  respectable  mer 
chant,  a  heavy  iron  dealer,  in  Broad  street,  New  York. 
Violently  seized  with  the  mania  a  potu  of  literature, 
he  sat  down  and  wrote  a  Downing  letter,  giving  an  ac 
count  of  the  arrival  of  the  Presidential  party  in  New 
York,  signed  it  with  the  Major's  name,  and  published  it 
in  the  old  Daily  Advertiser. 

As  the  letter  of  the  genuine  Major  giving  an  account 
of  the  same  affair,  was  sent  to  his  Uncle  Joshua  through 


24  JACK   DOWMNtt'S   LETTEKS. 

the  Portland  Courier,  it  took  several  days  for  it  to  make 
the  journey  down  east  and  back  again.  In  the  mean 
time  the  letter  of  the  iron  dealer  made  its  appearance 
with  Major  Downing's  signature,  and  was  seized  upon 
by  the  greedy  multitude  and  passed  about  as  the  true 
coin.  The  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  who  had 
been  hurrahing  for  Major  Downing  for  weeks  and 
months,  and  some  of  them  for  years,  of  course  raised 
their  voices  again  as  loud  as  ever. 

"  God  bless  me  !"  said  the  Broad  street  merchant ; 
"  why,  I've  electrified  the  world  !  I  had  no  idea  I  was 
such  a  great  writer  before.  I  must  go  into  this  busi 
ness  deep ;  who  cares  for  trade  when  he  can  get  popu 
larity  and  literary  fame  ?" 

Henceforth  the  Broad  street  merchant  became  a  man 
of  letters,  and  the  iron  business  was  turned  over  to  the 
other  members  of  the  firm.  For  months  afterwards  he 
earnestly  applied  himself  to  writing  Downing  letters, 
and  as  he  could  always  get  them  to  the  New  York  market 
before  the  letters  of  the  true  Major,  who  was  riding  about 
with  the  "  Gineral,"  and  sending  his  epistles  through 
the  Portland  Courier,  could  arrive  here,  the  merchant 
thought'the  run  of  the  trade  was  all  in  his  favor.  And 
whenever  the  clouds  in  all  parts  of  the  country  pealed 
forth  the  name  of  Major  Downing,  "  God  bless  me !" 
said  the  merchant,  "  don't  you  hear  my  thunder !" 

But  we  are  dilating  too  much  for  the  object  we  pro 
posed  to  ourselves  on  this  occasion,  and  must  draw  to  a 
close.  Americus  Vespucius  filched  the  name  of 
America,  lut  Columbus  discovered  the  country.  It  is  the 
province  of  history  to  set  these  matters  right.  In  No 
vember,  1833,  an  enterprising  and  extensive  publishing 
house  in  Boston,  Messrs  Lilly,  Waite,  Colman,  and 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  25 

Holden,  published  a  volume  of  the  Major's  letters  with 
a  brief  sketch  of  his  life,  which  had  a  very  rapid  and 
wide  sale.  This  afforded  another  opportunity  for  the 
Broad  street  merchant  to  gather  fresh  laurels,  and  he 
accordingly  had  his  letters  collected  and  published  in 
a  volume  in  New  York. 

These  circumstances  at  the  time  were  much  com 
mented  upon  by  the  papers  of  the  Jay.  We  shall  here 
quote  a  couple  of  paragraphs  from  the  many  that  ap 
peared,  as  applicable  to  our  purpose.  The  following 
was  the  language  of  Major  Noah's  Evening  Star. 

Major  Jack  Downing  turned  author. — The  letters  which 
have  just  been  published  in  a  neat  duodecimo  volume  by  Lilly, 
Waite,  &  Co.,  Boston,  and  which  have  obtained  a  circulation 
and  celebrity  more  extended  perhaps  than  any  production  that 
ever  issued  from  the  American  Press,  are  written  with  all  the 
quaint  simplicity  of  the  style  of  Fielding,  and  abound  in  pas 
sages  of  infinite  drollery  and  exquisite  humor.  It  would  ap 
pear  that  the  Major  since  quitting  the  peaceful  abode  of  the 
little  village  of  Downingville  and  the  company  of  Aunt 
Nabby  and  Uncle  Joshua,  has  become  quite  dazzled  with  the 
splendor  of  our  imperial  court  of  Washington,  and  the  inti 
macy  with  the  "  Gin'ral"  and  other  grandees  of  the  "  Kitchin 
Kabinet."  He  now  disdains  any  longer  to  grope  in  the  ob 
scure  columns  of  a  newspaper  and  comes  forth  accoutered  in 
all  the  aristocratic  armory  of  authorship,  arid  we  have  no 
doubt  from  the  imposing  and  formidable  attitude  in  which  he 
now  appears,  and  the  universal  popularity  of  his  writings,  that 
he  will  achieve  new  triumphs  in  the  reputation  he  has  already 
acquired. 

About  the  same  time,  the  National  Gazette  at  Phila 
delphia,  then  conducted  by  the  distinguished  Robert 
Walsh,  bore  the  following  high  testimony. 

[From  Walsh's  National  Gazette.] 

It  has  been  the  fate  of  all  successful  authors  to  have  counter 
feits,  who  deal  with  their  originals  as  Hamlet  says  that  some 
players  imitate  nature.  The  Rabelais,  the  Swifts,  the  Vol- 
taires,  suffered  in  their  day  by  the  productions  of  interlopers 
of  the  sort.  Mere  bunglers  attempted  to  personate  them, 
and  confounded  the  less  discriminating  or  critical  part  of  the 


26  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

reading  public.  Major  Jack  Downing  has  paid  in  like  man 
ner  the  penalty  of  genius  and  popularity ;  and  he  has  com 
plained  of  the  hardship  and  injustice  in  a  characteristic  vein. 
We  humbly  advise  him  to  write  over  the  whole  story  of  Pre 
sident  Jackson's  late  expedition.  It  might  confidently  be  pre 
dicted  that  a  full  narrative  from  his  pen,  duly  authenticated, 
would  obtain  as  much  vogue  in  these  United  States,  as  did 
Peter  Plymley's  Letters  in  Great  Britain." 

So  great  was  the  popularity  of  Major  Downing  dur 
ing  the  "  GineralV  administration,  that  the  artists  all 
over  the  country  were  in  a  "  terrible  taking"  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  him,  so  that  they  might  make  out  some  kind 
of  a  likeness.  One  of  the  most  successful  efforts  of  the 
artists  for  this  purpose  was  described  in  the  following 
communication  published  in  the  New  York  Journal  of 
Commerce. 

[For  the  Journal  of  Commerce.] 

While  in  Boston,  I  visited  the  Athenaeum  Gallery  of  paint 
ings,  and  there  I  saw  the  portrait  of  the  immortal  Jack  Down 
ing,  that  wonderful  traveller  and  commentator  on  the  sayings 
and  doings  of  our  great  men,  the  President's  right-hand  man, 
and  the  individual  on  whom  it  is  said  the  learned  fraternity  at 
Cambridge  conferred  the  title  of  A.  S.  S.  which  Jack  says, 
being  interpreted,  means  "  Amazin  Smart  Skoller."  Per 
haps  your  readers  might  be  interested  in  a  brief  description 
of  the  person  of  this  singular  genius,  as  represented  by  the 
portrait.  It  is  said  to  be  a  phrenological  head,  of  which  the 
critics  in  Boston  and  elsewhere  speak  very  highly.  It  is  the 
production  of  Mr.  Harris,  a  young  artist  in  Portland,  Me. 
Jack  is  about  forty  years  old,  thick  set  and  stoutly  built, — 
his  features  bold  and  strong, — complexion  florid  and  healthy, — 
nose  a  little  aquiline, — yellow  hair,  with  a  cow-lick  on  the  top 
of  the  head.  But  his  expression  is  inimitable.  The  whole 
face,  in  the  words  of  the  Boston  Globe,  "  beams  with  a  char 
acteristic  expression  and  sly  humor  of  a  shrewd,  thriving, 
and  full  blooded  yankee.  It  is  a  sort  of  humanized  Silenus, 
with  a  breadth  and  vividness  of  sensual  roguery  in  the  ex 
pression  of  the  mouth,  which  Rubens  would  have  turned  to 
good  account  in  one  of  his  Bachanalian  groups." 

Jack  Downing's  letters  first  appeared  in  the  Portland  Daily 
Courier,  about  three  years  since,  when  he  introduced  himself 
as  an  honest  farmer  from  Downingville,  on  a  visit  to  Portland 


JACK   DOWUDfe'fl   LETTERS.  27 

for  the  purpose  of  selling  a  load  of  bean-poles  ;  but  happening 
in  at  the  Legislature  then  in  session,  he  became  interested — 
forgot  his  bean  poles,  commenced  commenting  on  their  pro 
ceedings,  (corresponding  with  "  Uncle  Joshua,"  "  Cousin 
Ephraim,"  "  Aunt  Nabb,"  and  others,)  and  since  that  time 
has  continued  his  letters,  which  have  been  as  extensively 
copied,  perhaps,  as  any  correspondence  ever  known. — The 
London  papers  are  now  republishing  them. 

The  portrait  in  the  gallery  represents  him  in  the  attitude  of 
inditing  one  of  his  epistles, — with  a  copy  of  the  Daily 
Courier  lying  beside  him,  and  a  full  length  engraving  of  "  the 
President"  before  him.  Since  the  appearance  of  the  portrait 
in  the  gallery,  there  have  been  a  number  of  other  portraits 
and  engravings  got  up  purporting  to  be  Major  Downing,  but 
these,  I  believe,  are  all  a  hoax. 

One  of  the  most  prominent  shoots  from  the  root  of  the 
Downing  literature  of  the  country,  aside  from  the  main 
tree,  sprung  up  under  the  name  of  "  Sam  Slick."  A 
year  or  two  after  Major  Downing's  letters  began  to  ap 
pear  in  the  Portland  Courier,  the  public  attention  was 
attracted  by  a  clever  little  volume  entitled  "  Sam 
Slick,  the  clockmaker,"  which  afterwards  proved  to 
be  from  the  pen  of  Judge  Halliburton,  of  Novia  Scotia. 
There  was  no  plagiarism  about  this  little  volume ;  it 
had  a  distinct  character  and  a  distinct  name  ;  but  its 
general  features,  air  and  manner,  showed  it  to  be  a  le 
gitimate  offspring  of  Downingism.  Had  Major  Down 
ing  never  written,  the  public  never  would  have  heard  of 
Sam  Slick.  This  reference  is  not  intended  as  the  least 
disparagement  of  Judge  Halliburton,  who  acquired  no 
small  fame  by  his  Clockmaker,  and  a  widei  reputation 
by  the  subsequent  observations  of  Sam  Slick  in  Eng 
land. 

Our  only  object  is  to  do  a  simple  act  of  justice  to  our 
author,  Major  Downing,  and  to  disabuse  the  public 
mind  of  certain  errors  and  prejudices,  by  tracing  out 
the  origin  and  progress  of  Downing  literature.  We 


28  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

might  say  much  more,  and  we  do  not  see  how  our  duties 
could  have  permitted  us  to  say  less.  Were  we  to  follow 
the  Major  through  his  subsequent  career  to  the  close  of 
the  "  Gineral's  "  administration,  and  his  connection 
with  the  press,  the  Downing  Gazette  in  Portland,  the 
Bunker  Hill  in  New  York,  and  other  periodicals,  we 
should  fill  a  volume. 

But  our  task  is  done.  We  drop  the  pen  with  entire 
confidence  that  truth  is  great  and  will  prevail.  In  ages 
to  come,  and  in  all  time,  amid  all  the  literary  revolu 
tions  of  the  world,  when  critics  shall  be  confounded 
and  the  nations  delighted  by  the  bursting  forth  of  fresh 
streams  of  Downing  literature,  even  then  shall  remote 
posterity  look  far  back  upon  the  page  of  history,  beam 
ing  with  the  steady  light  of  truth,  and  with  grateful 
hearts  and  laughing  eyes  exclaim,  "  the  great  author 
and  founder  of  the  Downing  school  of  literature  was 
Major  Jack  Downing,  of  Downingville,  away  down  east 
in  the  State  of  Maine." 

THE  PUBLISHERS. 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 


LETTER    I. 

To  AUNT  KEZIAH  DOWNING,  wife  of  Uncle  Joshua,  Post 
master  of  Downingville,  away  down  East  in  the  State  of 
Maine. 

New  York,  May  3,  1845. 

DEAR  AUNT: — I  s'pose  you  begin  to  think  by  this 
time  it's  a  good  while  since  I  writ  to  you ;  but  the 
truth  is,  any  body  might  as  well  try  to  write  a  let 
ter  in  a  hornet's  nest  as  to  try  to  write  one  in  New 
York  any  time  for  a  month  before  the  first  of  May, 
especially  if  they  live  in  a  hired  house  and  expect 
to  have  to  move  when  May-day  comes  round ;  and 
that  I  take  it  is  the  case  with  jest  about  one  half 
the  New  Yorkers  about  every  year.  It's  an  awful 
custom,  and  where  it  come  from  I  can't  find  out ; 
but  it  has  used  me  up  worse  than  building  forty 
rods  of  stone  wall,  or  chopping  down  ten  acres  of 
trees.  I  haint  had  my  clothes  off  for  a  week,  and 
I  haint  had  a  quiet  night's  rest  for  a  month ;  and 
the  way  my  bones  have  ached  would  be  enough  to 
make  a  horse  cry  his  eyes  out 

I  couldn't  write  anything  to-day  but  about  house 
hunting  and  moving  if  I  should  try.  Jest  to  give 
you  a  little  insight  into  the  common,  run  of  this  ere 
business,  I'll  lay  down  some  of  the  outlines  of  it 
before  1  undertake  to  tell  you  how  we  got  through 
the  scrape  ourselves.  There's  two  sorts  of  folks  in 

(29) 


30  JACK  DOWNING^-  LETTERS. 

this  city;  and  it's  such  an  everlastin'  great  concern 
you  may  well  suppose  there's  about  as  many  as 
you  could  shake  a  stick  at  of  both  sorts.  One  sort 
is  them  that  lets  houses,  and  t'other  sort  is  them 
that  hires.  They  call  'em  here,  landlords  and  ten 
ants.  And  the  way  they  use  each  other  up  isn't 
slow,  I  can  tell  you.  They  have  a  regular  war 
every  year.  The  manuvering  and  twisting,  and 
crowding,  and  quarrelling,  begins  to  come  on  in 
February,  and  it  grows  hotter  and  hotter  till  the 
first  day  of  May,  when  they  have  the  great  regular 
pitched  battle.  And  then  sich  a,  rumpus,  and  sich 
a  route  I  don't  think  the  world  ever  see  any  where 
else.  The  children  of  Israel,  that  we  read  about 
in  the  Bible,  going  out  of  Egypt  with  their  flocks 
and  their  little  ones,  wasn't  no  touch  to  it.  The 
landlords  generally  lead,  because  they  have  the 
most  money  to  carry  on  the  war ;  but  that  don't 
discourage  the  tenants  so  but  that  they  renew  the 
fight  again  the  next  year  as  hard  as  ever.  The 
tussle  is  all  about  the  price  of  rents  ;  the  landlords 
want  to  get  'em  up  higher,  and  the  tenants  want  to 
get  'em  down  lower ;  and  when  so  many  thousand 
of  'em  on  both  sides  fairly  come  to  the  scratch, 
they  make  hot  work  of  it. 

The  landlords  have  a  way  here  sich  as  I  don't 
think  they  have  any  where  else  in  the  world,  of  let 
ting  their  houses  for  just  exactly  one  year  from  the 
first  day  of  May,  twelve  o'clock  at  noon.  And 
they  make  the  tenants  hire  the  houses  in  February 
for  the  next  year.  And  if  they  don't  hire  'em  then, 
and  agree  to  pay  what  the  landlord  asks,  he  puts  a 
handbill  on  to  the  house,  saying  "  this  house  to  let," 
and  the  first  day  of  May,  at  twelve  o'clock,  if  the 
tenant  isn't  out,  an  officer  goes  and  puts  him  into 
the  street  neck  and  heels,  with  his  wife  and  children, 
and  all  his  housen-stufF,  whether  they  have  any 
place  to  put  their  heads  in  or  not — that  is,  if  the 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  31 

tenant  has  paid  up  his  rent;  if  he  hasn't,  the  land 
lord  nabs  the  housen-stuff  and  sells  it  at  vandue. 

They  build  all  sich  great  costly  houses  here,  that 
nobody  but  smart  folks  that's  got  plenty  of  money 
can  live  in  a  whole  house  to  themselves  ;  so  com 
mon  sort  of  folks  have  to  take  parts  of  houses. 
We've  been  living  most  of  the  time  since  we've 
been  here,  in  the  third  story  of  one  of  'Squire 
Sharp's  houses.  'Squire  Sharp  is  a  little  black- 
eyed,  slender,  peaked-nosed  man,  that  looks  as 
though  he  might  crawl  through  a  square  of  seven 
by  nine  glass,  if  the  glass  was  fairly  out,  and  not 
squeeze  him  neither.  Now  most  of  the  great  rich 
folks,  that  own  so  many  houses  here,  are  large,  fat, 
red-faced  men,  that  ride  about  in  their  carriages 
most  of  the  time,  and  when  they  walk  look  as 
though  they'd  step  right  over  common  folks'  heads. 
They  get  most  of  their  rents,  because  their  tenants 
are  so  awful  'fraid  of  'em,  that  they  about  as  lieves 
die  as  not  to  pay  'em.  But  it  aint  so  with  'Squire 
Sharp.  Somehow,  nobody  don't  seem  to  be  afraid 
of  him,  and  yet  he  don't  loose  hardly  any  of  his 
rents.  He's  the  keenest  hand  to  make  a  bargain 
that  ever  I  see,  and  he  gets  his  rents  by  looking  af 
ter  'em  ;  he  fairly  dogs  it  out  of  his  tenants  ;  and 
if  any  of  'em  happen  to  give  him  the  slip,  he's  as 
keen  as  a  bloodhound  to  scent  'em  out,  and  he'll 
follow  'em  day  and  night  till  he  gets  it.  He's  as 
thin  as  a  bed-post,  and  always  looks  as  holler  as  if 
he  hadn't  eat  any  thing  for  a  week.  But  he's  a  rich 
man  for  all  that.  He  owns  the  whole  block  where 
we've  been  living,  seven  or  eight  great  three  story 
brick  houses,  besides  ever  so  many  more  round  the 
city. 

We  had  two  rooms  and  two  bedrooms,  as  I  said 
afore,  in  the  third  story.  Cousin  Nabby  and  the 
two  youngest  children  slept  in  one  bedroom,  and 
Jacky  and  Ichabod  in  t'other  bedroom,  and  wife 


32 

and  I  in  one  of  the  large  rooms.  T'other  room  we 
had  to  cook  and  eat  in.  I  paid  eighty  dollars  a 
year  rent.  When  I  went  to  hire  it,  I  wasn't  dress 
ed  very  slick,  and  'Squire  Sharp  looked  at  me  as 
much  as  five  minutes,  and  eyed  me  from  top  to  toe 
before  he  give  me  any  answer.  At  last,  says  he, 

"  Who's  your  security?" 

Says  I,  "  I  never  asked  any  body  to  be  bonds 
man  for  me  yet  in  my  life,  and  I  shan't  begin  to 
day,  I  guess." 

So  1  turned  round  and  was  going  to  clear  out. 
But  says  he, 

"Stop,  Mister!  I  don't  know  as  it  will  make 
much  odds ;  for  I  always  let  them  third  stories 
payable  weekly  in  advance ;  and  you  can  have  it 
in  that  way  for  eighty  dollars  a  year." 

As  I  couldn't  do  any  better  jest  then,  I  concluded 
to  take  it ;  so  we  moved  in.  Every  Monday  morn 
ing  for  three  weeks  the  'Squire  come  round  as 
regular  as  clock-work,  and  took  his  week's  advance. 
But  about  the  middle  of  the  fourth  week,  which  was 
the  second  or  third  day  of  February,  he  come  in 
and  says  he, 

"  Major  Downing,  I've  come  to  see  if  you  are  go 
ing  to  engage  this  tenement  for  the  next  year  ?" 

"  Well,  'Squire,"  says  I,  "  I  guess  I  can  tell  you 
that  better  when  this  year  is  out.  And  besides, 
'Squire,  you  know  I  don't  hire  your  house  by  the 
year  ;  I  hire  it  by  the  week." 

"  It  isn't  so,"  says  he  ;  "  you  hire  it  by  the  year, 
and  pay  by  the  week." 

"But  how  can  I  hire  by  the  year,"  says  I,  "when 
you  told  me,  at  the  time  I  hired  it,  that  you  couldn't 
engage  it  only  till  the  first  of  May  ?" 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  all  our  rent  years  begin  the 
first  of  May,  and  I  let  it  to  you  for  the  balance  of 
the  year.  Now,  if  you  are  a  mind  to  engage  it  for 
a  year  from  the  first  of  May,  payable  weekly  in 


JACK    DOWNINU-'b    LETTIiKS.  83 

advance,  you  can  have  it;  and  I'll  draw  up  the 
writings  and  have  'em  fixed  to-day." 

"  But,  'Squire,"  says  I,  "  now,  how  onreasonable 
that  is !  Only  jest  think  of  it :  Here  it  is  three  months 
before  the  tirst  of  May,  and  who  knows  but  what 
we  may  all  be  dead  before  that  time  ?  And  besides 
1  may  have  some  business  to  do  somewhere  else  by 
that  time,  and  shan't  want  to  live  here  any  longer. 
No,  no,  'Squire  ;  let  these  three  months  run  out,  and 
then,  if  I  want  to  stay  here,  and  we  can  agree,  I'll 
hire  it  again." 

At  that  the  'Squire  colored  up  a  little,  and  says 
he,  "Major  Downing,  I  can't  do  any  sich  thing.  If 
you  want  the  house  next  year,  you  must  engage  it 
now,  and  sign  the  papers  ;  if  not,  I  shall  put  a  bill 
on  the  house,  '  to  let.9  I  can't  break  over  any  of 
our  rules." 

*  Well,"  says  I,  "  'Squire,  I  never  was  drove  yet 
by  any  man  in  my  life,  and  I  guess  I  shan't  be  to 
day.  You  may  do  as  you  like  ;  but  as  for  hiring  a 
house  before  I  know  whether  I  shall  want  it  or  not, 
I  shan't  do  no  sich  thing." 

At  that  the  'Squire  cleared  out  and  went  off.  The 
next  morning  I  heard  a  little  hammering  on  the  side 
of  the  house,  and  I  looked  out,  and  there  was  the 
'Squire,  nailing  up  a  bill,  with  large  letters  on  it, 
"  THIS  HOUSE  TO  LET."  And  I  looked  along,  and  I 
see  there  was  jest  sich  a  bill  on  every  house  in  the 
block.  Thinks  I,  what's  to  pay  now  ?  I  guess  some 
terrible  overturn  has  happened  to  the  'Squire  or  his 
tenants,  to  break  'em  all  up  in  a  heap  so.  I  felt 
kind  of  uneasy  about  it ;  so,  after  breakfast,  I  took 
my  hat,  and  went  out,  and  walked  a  mile  or  two 
about  the  city.  And  I  soon  found  that  whatever 
the  trouble  might  be  between  the  'Squire  and  his 
tenants,  the  same  trouble  had  spread  all  over  the 
city  ;  for  in  every  street  I  went  through,  it  seemed 
to  me  one  half  the  houses  had  bills  on  'em,  to  let. 
3 


34  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

Well,  thinks  I,  I'm  glad  I  didn't  engage  that  house 
of  'Squire  Sharp,  for  there's  sich  an  everlastin' 
sight  of  houses  to  let  now,  it's  a  wonder  to  me  if  I 
don't  find  one  pretty  cheap.  So  I  went  home,  and 
told  Polly  all  New  York  was  to  let,  and  I  guessed 
we  should  find  a  house  next  year  cheap  enough. 

I  hadn't  hardly  got  sot  down  after  I  come  in,  be 
fore  I  heard  a  knock  at  the  door  ;  and  says  I  "  come 
in."  And  in  come  a  great,  stout,  fat,  squaddy  wo 
man,  and  says  she, "  I  see  this  tenement  in  the  third 
story,  is  to  let,  and  I  jest  want  the  privilege  of  look 
ing  at  it  a  little  to  see  if  I  can  make  it  do  for  my 
family." 

"Certainly,  marm,"  says  I,  for  I  always  pride  my 
self  in  bein  perlite  to  the  ladies.  "  Polly,  jest  show 
the  lady  the  rooms."  So  Polly  went  round  to  show 
her  the  house. 

"Which  is  the  parlor?"  said  the  fat  lady. 
"  This  is  the  fore-room,"  said  Polly ;  "  but  we 
use  it  to  sleep  in  as  we  are  rather  scant  of  room." 
"  Oh,  marcy,"  said  the  fat  lady  ;  "  how  can  any 
body  think  of  living  without  a  parlor  ?     It  must  be 
dreadful  vulgar.     Well,  which  is  the  kitchen  ?" 

So  Polly  showed  her  the  kitchen,  though  she  was 
jest  cooking  dinner,  and  the  dinner  things  was  all 
round  jest  as  it  happened.  I  see  Polly  felt  a  little 
uneasy  about  it,  and  colored  up  when  she  asked  to 
go  into  the  kitchen,  for  you  know,  Aunt,  that  Polly, 
though  I  say  it  myself,  was  always  as  neat  as  wax 
work,  and  never  could  bear  to  have  anybody  look 
into  the  kitchen  unless  everything  was  put  up  as 
neat  as  a  pin.  Howsomever,  she  opened  the  door, 
and  the  fat  lady  marched  in. 

"  Oh,  marcy  on  us,"  said  she,  "  this'll  never  do  for 

my  family  at  all.    There's  no  convenience  about  it; 

only  one  little  stived  up  closet.     Oh,  it'll  never  do 

for  me  at  all ;  how  can  you  get  along  with  it  ?" 

Polly  told  her  it  wasn't  so  handy  as  some  kitchens, 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  35 

"  Well"  said  she,  "  let  me  see  the  sleeping  rooms." 
So  Polly  opened  the  bed-room  doors ;  and  the 
fat  lady  lifted  up  her  hands  and  declared  she  would 
as  soon  sleep  in  a  pig's  pen  and  done  with  it,  as  to 
go  into  sich  little  mean  stived  up  places  as  them. 
Then  she  went  back  again  into  the  kitchen,  and 
looked  into  the  closet,  and  examined  the  dishes  of 
bread  and  butter,  and  cold  meat  that  was  left  the 
day  before,  and  said  it  was  a  shame  for  landlords 
to  build  sich  ill-contrived  Jiouses.  Then  she  took 
a  chair  and  sot  down,  for  she  had  talked  so  much 
she  began  to  grow  a  little  wheezy.  At  last  she 
decla  ed  she  wouldn't  live  in  the  house  if  they  would 
give  ii  to  her.  I  begun  to  get  a  little  riled,  and  told 
her  I  guessed  she  better  not  think  of  hiring  it  then, 
for  I  was  pretty  sure  she  would  find  it  an  awful 
tiresome  business  to  go  up  and  down  three  pair  of 
stairs.  At  that  she  got  up  and  went  out,  and  slam 
med  the  door  tu  pretty  hard  after  her,  and  never 
said  boo  to  one  of  us. 

Well,  this  was  only  just  the  beginning  of  trouble, 
for  arter  that  there  was  a  steady  stream  of  folks 
coming  in  to  look  at  the  house  for  about  two 
months,  commonly  as  much  as  five  or  six  a  day  and 
sometimes  more  ;  and  you  may  guess  a  little  from 
the  account  of  the  fat  ladv  what  sort  of  a  time  we 
had  of  it.  At  last,  about  ihe  first  of  April,  I  looked 
out  one  day  and  I  see  Squire  'Sharp  come  and  take 
down  the  bill  of  third  story  to  let.  And  though  I 
knew  then  I  should  have  to  move,  whether  or  no, 
I  felt  glad  the  bill  was  down,  because  it  would  stop 
that  everlasting  stream  of  folks  coming  in  and  both- 
erin  of  us  so  every  day.  Polly  began  to  grow  un 
easy  now,  because  we  hadn't  got  no  house,  and 
said  I  ought  to  go  a  house  hunting  jest  as  every  bo 
dy  else  did,  or  else  we  should  be  turned  out  of  doors 
bime  by.  So  I  told  her  I'd  go  at  it  next  day,  and 
make  a  business  of  it,  and  follow  it  up  till  I  got  a 


36  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

house.  Accordingly  the  next  day  I  went  at  it,  and 
I  found  it  a  pesky  sight  worse  job  than  I  expected. 
The  bills  wasn't  near  so  thick  as  they  was  two  or 
three  weeks  before  ;  but  still  I  thought  they  was  so 
plenty,  there  would  be  no  trouble  in  finding  a  house. 
I  went  round  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  because 
folks  said  rents  was  a  good  deal  cheaper  up  there 
than  down  in  town.  At  last  I  found  part  of  a  house 
that  I  thought  looked  as  if  it  would  do  nicely  ;  and 
looked  at  the  bill  and  it  said  inquire  sich  a  number 
in  Wall  street.  Well,  I  started  off  to  Wall  street, 
and  after  walking  about  two  miles  and  a  half  I  got 
there  and  found  the  place,  and  come  to  inquire  the 
rent,  it  was  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  I  c  juldn't 
afford  to  give  more  than  eighty  or  a  hundr  ed  dol 
lars  rent,  so  back  I  went  to  take  another  hunt.  At 
last  I  found  one  that  looked  as  though  it  might  be 
a  good  deal  cheaper,  and  I  looked  at  the  bill,  and 
that  said  inquire  at  another  number  in  Wall  street. 
So  I  posted  down  again  and  found  the  place  and 
inquired  the  rent.  It  was  a  hundred  and  fifty  dol 
lars.  I  was  studying  the  matter  over  to  see  if  it 
would  do  for  me  to  think  of  giving  so  much,  when 
the  man  asked  me  how  much  family  I  had.  I  told 
him  there  was  myself  and  wife  and  cousin  Nabby 
and  six  children.  At  that,  says  he,  "  We  never  let 
it  to  children  ;"  and  he  ,hot  the  door  and  went  in. 
So  there  I  found  I  was  up  a  tree  again.  I  had  got 
so  tired  by  this  time,  and  it  had  got  to  be  towards 
night,  that  I  thought  I  would  give  it  up  for  a  bad 
days  work,  and  go  home.  When  I  got  home  I 
found  Polly  almost  tired  to  death,  for  she  had  felt 
so  uneasy  for  fear  we  should  be  turned  out  of  doors 
bime  by,  that  she  had  been  out  most»all  day  house 
hunting  too.  But  she  hadirt  made  out  any  better 
than  I  did.  I  told  Polly  she  better  stay  at  home 
and  take  care  of  the  children,  and  not  worry  her 
self  about  it.  and  I'd  foller  the  business  UD  till  I  trot 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  .37 

a  house  at  some  rate  or  other.  So  the  next  morn 
ing  1  started  again,  and  I  trampoosed  the  city  from 
one  end  to  'tother,  lengthways,  and  crossways,  and 
cornerways  ;  but  I  didn't  make  out  any  better  than 
I  did  the  day  before.  In  the  morning  I  would  find 
a  bill  on  a  house  that  looked  as  if  it  might  do,  and 
come  to  read  it,  it  would  say,  to  be  seen  only  from 
two  to  five  in  the  afternoon  ;  and  in  the  afternoon  I 
would  find  a  bill  that  would  say,  to  be  seen  only 
from  ten  to  twelve  in  the  morning.  And  then  again 
I  would  see  a  house  that  looked  about  right,  and  I 
would  step  up  to  the  door  and  ask  if  I  might  look  at 
it,  and  they  would  say,  that  they  had  so  much 
trampling  over  the  house  they  couldn't  have  any 
more  of  it,  and  shet  the  door  and  go  in.  Wherever 
I  went  I  see  the  streets  was  full  of  folks  house-hunt 
ing,  and  half  the  time  when  I  went  to  look  at  a  bill, 
there  would  be  so  many  others  bobbing  up  onto 
the  steps  before  me  that  I  would  have  to  wait  most 
half  an  hour  before  I  could  get  a  chance  to  read 
it.  And  when  I  did  get  up  to  it,  as  likely  as 
not  it  would  say,  "  This  house  to  let  to  a  small,  gen 
teel  family,  without  children ;"  so  there  I  would  be 
dished  again.  Once  I  stood  on  the  steps,  reading  a 
bill,  and  there  was  a  great,  fat,  greasy-faced  wo 
man  stood  right  afore  me,  facing  it,  reading  it  tu. 
She  was  a  cross,  sour-looking  thing,  and  looked  as 
if  she  had  lived  on  hog's  fat  all  her  life — and  I  think 
it  is  pretty  likely  she  had,  for  the  city  is  full  of  hogs. 
You  would  see  more  hogs  here,  in  walking  the 
streets  for  half  an  hour,  than  you  would  see  in 
Downinville  for  a  whole  year.  Well,  as  I  stood 
opposite  that  old  grease  spot,  reading  the  bill,  there 
come  up  sich  a  crowd  behind  me  to  read  the  bill 
tu,  that  they  knocked  my  head  right  into  her  bon 
net.  By  the  gracious  if  my  ears  didn't  ring  again  ! 
She  slapped  her  great  square  hand  against  the  side  of 
my  head  so  hard,  it  almost  knocked  me  off  the  steps. 


38  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

"  You  saucy,  good  for  nothing  brute,"  says  shc> 
and  her  eyes  were  starting  out  of  her  head  as  big 
as  an  ox's  eyes  when  he's  drawing  a  heavy  load — 
"  haint  you  no  more  manners  ?"  says  she,  "  set  out 
to  kiss  me  so,  right  here  in  the  street  tu,  and  afore 
all  these  folks  ?" 

I  told  her  upon  my  word  and  honor  it  was  no 
sich  thing.  'Twas  the  folks  behind  me  that  pushed 
me,  and  I  hadn't  the  least  thought  in  the  world  of 
kissing  her.  At  that  I  thought  she  looked  Grosser 
than  she  did  afore,  and  I  jumped  off  the  steps  and 
got  away  as  fast  as  I  could.  I  went  home  that 
night  pretty  well  tired  out,  and  most  discouraged 
about  finding  a  house.  But  I  see  Polly  grew  more 
uneasy  ;  so  I  started  again  next  morning,  and  kept 
it  up  right  and  tight  every  day  for  pretty  near  a 
fortnight,  till  I  got  the  bottoms  of  my  shoes  all  wore 
off.  Then  I  stopped  one  day  and  got  'em  tapped 
and  rested  upon  't,  and  then  I  went  at  it  again.  At 
last,  in  the  course  of  my  travels,  I  found  three 
houses  that  I  thought  might  do,  if  I  couldn't  do  any 
better.  But  the  rents  was  a  little  too  high.  They 
asked  me  $90  to  $100  a-piece  for  'em.  I  thought 
they  hadn't  ought  to  be  more  than  $80.  And  folks 
told  me  that  them  that  didn't  let  their  houses  till 
about  the  first  of  May  would  have  to  put  their  rents 
down.  So  I  concluded  to  watch-  these  'ere  three 
houses,  and  hold  on  till  the  last  day  of  April.  One 
was  way  over  towards  the  North  River,  pretty 
well  up  town,  on  a  cross  street  leading  out  of  Green 
wich  street.  Two  rooms  and  two  bedrooms,  on 
the  second  floor.  The  next  was  away  over  'tother 
way,  beyond  the  Bowery,  towards  the  East  River, 
and  pretty  well  up  towards  the  Dry  Dock.  One 
room  in  the  basement,  three  in  the  third  story,  and 
one  in  the  attic,  if  wanted.  But  the  basement  was 
awful  wet.  'Tother  one  was  away  up  the  Third 

not  far  from  thf*   Alms  T-Tr^ncA        Tt  tnnlr  m^ 


39 

about  half  the  day,  every  day  for  a  fortnight,  to  go 
round  to  these  three  houses  and  see  that  the  bills 
were  still  on.  For  I  thought  as  long  as  I  could  have 
my  choice  of  the  three  I  was  safe.  Well,  when  it 
come  to  be  the  last  day  of  April,  I  thought  it  was 
time  to  bring  matters  to  a  close.  So  in  the  course 
of  the  forenoon  I  walked  away  up  to  the  Third  ave 
nue  ;  that  house  being  a  little  the  cheapest  rent  I 
thought  on  the  whole,  bein  times  was  very  dull,  I 
better  take  that.  They  asked  ninety-five  dollars, 
but  would  take  ninety  for  a  good  tenant.  I  walk 
ed  along,  thinking  I'd'  try  'em  pretty  hard  for  eigh 
ty  dollars  ;  and  if  I  couldn't  get  it  for  that,  I'd  offer 
'em  eighty-five  ;  and  if  they  wouldn't  let  it  for  that, 
I'd  take  it  for  ninety. 

At  last  I  came  in  sight  of  the  house,  and  looked, 
but  I  couldn't  see  no  bill  on  it.  I  went  up  and  ask 
ed  if  the  house  was  let,  and  they  said  yes,  it  was  let 
about  an  hour  ago.  I  turned  about  and  quickened 
my  steps,  and  walked  away  down  towards  the  East 
River  house,  and  thought  I'd  take  it  right  off,  if  I 
had  to  give  as  much  as  ninety-five  dollars  for  it. 
Or  even  I  didn't  know  as  I  should  stick  at  a  hun 
dred.  When  I  got  in  sight  of  that  house,  the  bill 
was  off  of  that  too.  This  made  me  feel  a  little 
streaked,  and  the  sweat  started  out  on  my  forehead 
pretty  fast.  I  stepped  up  and  asked  them  if  the 
house  was  let.  They  said  yes,  it  was  let  that 
morning,  and  they  could  a  let  two  or  three  more 
jest  like  it  if  they'd  had  'em.  I  begun  to  be^  afraid 
now  I'd  got  into  rather  a  bad  box.  I  didn't  dare 
to  go  home  and  tell  Polly  how  things  looked  ;  and 
as  it  was  now  but  little  arter  noon,  I  thought  I'd  run 
round  two  or  three  streets,  and  see  if  I  couldn't 
hunt  up  some  houses.  So  I  pulled  foot,  and  hunted 
and  sweat,  till  I  got  so  tired  I  couldn't  but  jest 
stand.  There  was  a  good  many  bills  up,  but  some 
how  I  couldn't  find  any  that  would  seem  to  do. 


40  JACK   DOWNING 'S   LETTERS. 

They  was  all  too  high  rent,  or  they  wouldn't  take 
children,  or  something  or  other  was  in  the  way.  I 
felt  pretty  bad.  So  I  thought  I'd  go  home  and  tell 
Polly  the  worst  on't,  and  go  up  and  see  if  the  Green 
wich  house  was  gone  too.  When  I  come  to  tell 
her  about  it,  she  showed  a  little  dander. 

"  Now,  Jack,"  says  she,  "  if  you  have  delayed  so 
long  that  we've  lost  the  chance  of  getting  a  house, 
and  have  to  be  turned  out  of  doors  to-morrow,  I 
shall  lay  it  all  to  you,  every  bit  of  it.  I  must  say 
you  might  a  known  better." 

Now  Polly  doesn't  hardly  ever  give  me  a  hard 
word,  and  come  to  have  this  from  her,  poured  right 
on  top  of  the  trouble  I  was  in  about  a  house,  made 
me  feel  bad,  aunt  Keziah,  I  can  tell  you.  But  I  told 
Polly,  frettin  wouldn't  help  the  matter  a  bit,  and  if 
she'd  give  me  a  mouthful  of  bread  and  butter,  I'd 
go  and  try  once  more.  At  that  she  come  tu  a  lit 
tle,  and  sot  on  some  bread  and  butter,  and  then  we 
started  off  together.  We  went  all  round  over  the 
place  they  call  Greenwich  village,  though  if  I  was 
to  die  I  couldn't  tell  it  from  the  city  ;  but  we  didn't 
find  a  single  house  or  part  of  a  house  that  would 
seem  to  do,  till  we  got  up  to  a  cross  street,  where 
the  house  was  that  I'd  picked  out  afore.  As  soon 
as  we  turned  round  the  corner,  and  come  in  sight 
of  that  are  house,  I  looked  and  the  bill  was  on.  If 
I'd  a  had  a  half  a  ton  weight  took  off  my  shoulders 
I  couldn't  a  felt  lighter  than  I  did  that  minit.  It 
was  about  sunset,  and  the  last  day  of  April.  The 
old  folks  that  owned  the  house,  and  lived  in  the 
lower  part  of  it,  were  standing  out  on  the  steps  and 
looking  very  wistfully,  first  up  the  street  and  then 
down  the  street,  and  I  knew  by  their  looks  they  felt 
as  if  it  was  their  last  chance,  for  if  they  didn't  let  it 
that  night,  may  be  they  wouldn't  let  it  for  the  whole 
year.  I  give  Polly's  arm  a  jerk,  and  whispered  to 
her.  and  savs  I,  "  Now  do  vou  keeu  still  as  a  mouse 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  41 

and  not  appear  as  though  we  wanted  a  house  much, 
and  I'll  get  that  house  for  lower  rent  yet." 

We  walked  along  up  in  a  careless  kind  of  a  way, 
as  if  we  wasn't  looking  for  any  thing.  Then  we 
stopped  a  little  and  looked  up  to  the  house,  and 
says  I, 

"  Mister,  you've  got  to  let  your  house  lay  over 
this  year,  haven't  you  ?" 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  I  don't  know ;  the  man  that 
talked  of  taking  it  hasn't  come  yet ;  but  he  may  be 
here  this  evening." 

"  Well,  Mister,"  says  I,  "  what'll  you  take  for 
them  rooms  in  the  second  story  ?" 

"  Aint  you  suited  yet  V  says  he,  eyeing  us  very 
sharp,  and  stepping  down  off  the  steps. 

"  Not  exactly,"  says  I.  "  If  I  could  get  your 
house  low  enough,  I  don't  know  but  I  might  take 
it." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  I've  calculated  to  get  a  hun 
dred  dollars  for  it ;  but  bein  it's  getting  late  I'll  let 
it  go  for  ninety." 

I  told  him  I  couldn't  give  that,  but  if  he'd  a  mind 
to  let  it  go  for  seventy  I'd  take  it.  He  said  he 
couldn't  think  of  that ;  though  he  didn't  know,  for 
a  good  tenant  and  good  security,  he  might  say 
eighty,  to  a  quiet  family  without  children. 

At  that.  Polly  couldn't  help  putting  in  a  word  in 
spite  of  all  I'd  said  to  her  ;  and  says  she, 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  the  New  Yorkers 
expects  folks  to  get  along  in  this  world  without 
children." 

"  Ah,  then  you  have  children,"  said  the  old  gen 
tleman,  changing  his  manner  in  a'moment.  "  Well, 
there's  a  great  difference  in  children.  Some  fami 
lies  keep  'em  very  quiet,  while  in  others  they  are 
desput  troublesome.  I  dare  say  you  keep  yourn  in 
good  order." 

"  Well,"  savs  I.  "  I  must  be  asroin  :  I  can't  think 


42  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

of  paying  eighty  dollars."     And  I  began  to  edge 
along  a  little. 

"  Mister,"  says  he,  "  if  you  take  the  house,  what 
kind  of  security  will  you  give  me  ?" 

"  Oh,"  says  I,  "  I'll  pay  the  rent  every  week  in 
advance,  if  you  want  it.  But  I  can't  give  eighty 
dollars." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  you  may  have  it  for  seventy- 
five,  and  that's  the  lowest." 

"  I'll  take  it,"  says  I,  "  and  here's  a  silver  dollar 
to  bind  the  bargain  till  I  move  in." 

At  that  the  old  man  took  down  the  bill,  and  Polly 
and  I  turned  to  go  home  to  get  ready  for  the  great 
battle  the  next  day. 

And  now,  Dear  Aunt  Keziah,  I've  got  to  break 
right  off  short,  for  the  printer  says  I've  spun  my 
yarn  out  so  long  he  can't  wait  for  any  more.  But 
I'll  try  to  give  you  an  account  of  the  moving  in  my 
next  letter.  Give  my  love  to  Uncle  Joshua,  and  I 
remain  your  loving  nephew, 

MAJOR  JACK  DOWNING. 


LETTER  II. 

To  AU&T  KEZIAH  DOWNING,  wife  of  Uncle  Joshua,  of  Down- 
ingville,  Maine.  . 

New-York,  May  5th,  1845. 

DEAR  AUNT  : — In  my  last  letter,  I  told  you  some 
thing  about  house-hunting  in  New-York,  and  the 
terrible  bother  landlords  and  tenants  get  into  every 
spring ;  but  the  story  was  so  long  I  had  to  break 
off  before  I  said  half  what  I  wanted  to.  And  now 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  43 

I  am  going  to  try  to  tell  you  something  about  moving 
day.  Oh,  of  all  the  days  in  this  'ere  world,  and  I've 
seen  a  good  many  kinds  of  days  in  my  life-time — 
I've  seen  trainin'  days,  and  muster  days,  and  inde 
pendent  days,  and  when  I  lived  in  Washington 
along  with  General  Jackson,  bless  the  dear  old 
man  !  we  used  to  have  Christmas  and  New- Year's 
days  ;  but  of  all  the  days  that  ever  I  did  see  in  this 
'ere  world,  moving-day  in  New- York  is  the  cap- 
sheaf.  It  is  no  more  like  the  May-days  we  used  to 
have  in  Downingville,  than  a  toad  under  a  harrow 
is  like  a  man  on  horseback.  You  know  what  good, 
pleasant  times  we  used  to  have  when  the  first  day 
of  May  come  round  in  Downingville,  how  every 
thing  in  the  house  was  all  slicked  up  a  day  or  two 
beforehand  as  neat  as  a  pin,  and  the  things  in  every 
room  all  sot  to  rights,  and  the  children's  faces  all 
washed,  and  their  heads  combed,  and  their  clean 
clothes  all  ready  for  'em  to  put  on.  And  then, 
about  sunrise  May  morning,  what  a  scampering 
there  was  among  the  children  !  They'd  come  dart 
ing  out  of  all  the  houses  like  flocks  of  new  butter 
flies,  all  dressed  up  as  neat  as  pinks,  and  their  eyes 
glistening  and  shining  like  glass  buttons.  And  away 
they'd  fly  in  whole  swarms  across  the  fields,  and  up 
on  the  hills,  and  away  in  the  wooers ;  and  when  they 
come  back  to  breakfast  you  couldn't  tell  which  was 
the  reddest,  their  cheeks  or  the  bunches  of  flowers 
they  had  in  their  hands.  And  every  part  of  Down 
ingville  all  day  would  smell  as  sweet  as  a  rose. 

But  'taint  so  in  New-York,  aunt  Keziah,  not  by  a 
jug-full.  Everything  here  on  a  May-day  looks 
amazin'  different,  and  smells  amazin'  different,  I  can 
tell  you.  But  I'll  try  and  see  if  I  can  give  you  some 
little  notion  of  it.  To  begin  where  I  left  off  in  my 
last  letter :  When  I  got  through  making  a  bargain 
with  old  Mr.  Johnson,  that's  the  name  of  the  man  I 
hired  the  house  of — when  I  got  through,  and  the  old 


44  JACK  DOWNINQ'S  LETTERS. 

man  took  the  bill  down  off  the  house,  and  I  felt  sure 
at  last  that  we'd  got  a  house  to  go  into  next  day, 
and  shouldn't  have  to  be  turned  out  of  doors,  Polly 
and  I  turned  about  to  go  home,  a  good  deal  lighter- 
hearted  than  we  had  been  before  for  a  fortnight.  It 
was  jest  beginning  to  grow  dark  a  little,  and  we 
had  a  considerable  ways  to  go,  round  ever  so  many 
corners,  and  through  a  good  many  streets ;  but 
don't  you  think  there  were  so  many  lights  it  was 
jest  as  easy  going  as  it  would  be  in  the  day  time. 
In  all  the  streets  there  was  long  rows  of  lamps  lit 
on  both  sides  of  the  streets  as  fur  as  you  could  see  ; 
and  you  might  go  round  miles  and  miles,  and  turn 
which  way  you  would,  you  couldn't  see  no  end  to 
lamps.  I'll  say  that  for  New-York,  it's  a  good 
deal  easier  getting  about  here  in  the  night  time  than 
it  is  in  Downingville. 

Well,  Polly  and  I  jogged  along  towards  home, 
but  we  hadn't  gone  a  great  ways  before  we  begun 
to  see  other  great  lights  in  the  streets  than  lamps ; 
and  they  begun  to  grow  thicker  and  thicker  in  all 
the  streets — great  blazing  fires,  as  big  as  we  used 
to  have  in  the  fields  when  we  were  burning  off 
brush  in  the  spring.  What  under  the  sun  can  all 
these  fires  mean  ?  says  I.  I  begun  to  be  afraid  the 
tenants  had  come  off  so  bad  in  the  battle  with  the 
landlords  this  time,  that  they  might  be  layin'  a  plan 
to  burn  up  the  whole  city  at  once.  But  Polly  said 
she  didn't  believe  but  what  they'd  begun  to  turn 
them  folks  that  hadn't  got  no  houses  into  the  streets 
already,  and  they  was  building  up  fires  to  stay  by 
in  the  night.  Poor  critters !  says  she,  how  I  do 
pity  'em  !  for  I  know  that's  what  it  is.  I  told  her 
no,  she  might  depend  upon't,  'twasn't  the  rule  to 
turn  'em  out  till  next  day  at  twelve  o'clock  precisely. 

By  this  time  we  got  along  into  a  shabby  looking 
street,  chock  full  of  hogs  and  boys,  and  you  couldn't 
hardly  tell  which  looked  the  cleanest,  or  behaved 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  45 

the  best,  the  hogs  or  the  boys — nor  hardly  which 
was  the  thickest.  Here  we  come  along  to  one  of 
these  ere  great  fires,  and  stopt  a  few  minutes  to 
look  at  it.  There  was  fifty  boys  round  it,  poking 
it  with  sticks,  and  hollering  and  screaming  like  bed 
lam.  At  last,  says  I  to  a  little  boy  that  stood  near 
me — 

"  My  lad,  what's  the  meaning  of  all  these  ere 
great  fires  about  the  streets  to-night  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  says  he,  "  only  jest  burning  up  the 
old  straw." 

"  What  old  straw  ?"  says  I. 

"  Why,  the  old  beds,"  says  he ;  "  every  body 
burns  up  the  old  straw  to  night." 

"  But,"  says  I,  "  If  every  body  burns  up  their 
beds  to-night,  what  '11  they  do  to  sleep  on  to-mor 
row  night '(" 

"Oil?'  says  he,  "they  can  get  enough  more  to 
the  flour  and  feed  stores  to-morrow." 

At  that  all  the  other  boys,  that  had  been  a  looking 
and  listening  to  hear  what  we  said,  sot  up  such  a 
giggling  and  a  hurraying,  it  fairly  made  some  of  the 
four-legged  pigs  snort  and  run.  And  then  one  lit 
tle  sassy  rascal  come  up  within  about  ten  foot  of 
me,  and  stood  and  put  his  thumb  up  agin  the  side 
of  his  nose,  and  looked  up  with  an  awful  sassy  look 
at  me,  and  hollered  out,  "  ain't  ye  green  ?"  And 
then  he  pulled  foot  and  run  for  fear  I  should  be  arter 
him.  But  I  didn't  mind  nothiti'  about  him,  though 
the  boys  all  laffed  again  as  if  they'd  split.  Bime- 
by  out  came  a  couple  of  dirty  looking  gals  from  a 
dirty  looking  house,  lugging  along  a  straw  bed, 
and  emptied  it  on  to  the  fire. 

"  Whorah,"  said  the  boys,  as  they  run  with  their 
sticks  and  poked  the  straw  into  the  fire — "  Who 
rah  ;  now  for  roast  bed-bugs  and  fleas.  Hark, 
only  hear  the  flees  roar  ;  and  them  bed-bugs  crack 
and  snap  like  burning  hemlock." 


46  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

"  Hold  your  tongues,  you  sassy  brutes,"  said  the 
gals. 

At  that  the  boys  took  arter  'em  full  chisel  with 
handfulls  of  burning  straw,  and  the  gals  run  as  if  a 
catamount  had  been  arter  'em  till  they  got  into  the 
house. 

Polly  give  my  arm  a  jerk,  and  begged  of  me  to 
make  haste  out  of  the  street.  We  jogged  along 
again  towards  home,  and  we  didn't  get  into  any 
other  street  quite  so  bad  as  that,  though  we  went 
through  a  number  that  didn't  smell  any  too  sweet, 
I  can  tell  you.  At  last  we  got  home  and  found 
cousin  Nabby  most  out  of  patience  waiting  for  us  ; 
she'd  had  supper  ready  an  hour,  and  the  youngest 
children  was  very  tired  and  fretty.  So  we  sot 
down  to  supper,  and  before  we  'd  got  half  through, 
somebody  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  says  I.  And  the  door  opened,  and 
in  came  an  Irishman  with  a  basket  full  of  dishes,  as 
much  as  he  could  lug.  And  says  he,  "  Plase  yer 
honor." 

You  know,  aunt  Keziah,  how  queer  these  ere 
Irishmen  talk  ;  it's  enough  to  make  a  body  laff  till 
his  sides  aches  to  hear  em  talk  so  broad  and  un- 
grammatical. 

"  Plase  yer  honor,"  says  htf,  "  mistress  Pinkham 
wants  to  know  if  ye'll  be  so  kind  as  to  be  after 
obleeging  her  so  much  as  to  do  her  a  little  kindness 
jest  to  let  her  reposite  a  few  things  in  one  of  your 
rooms  to-night.  It  'ill  be  very  convaniant  for  her 
indade." 

"  Who  is  Miss  Pinkham  ?"  says  I. 

"It's  the  lady  that's  rinted  this  tinement,  yer 
honor,"  says  he,  "  and  it  '11  be  very  convaniant  for 
her,  if  you'll  allow  her." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  I,  "I'm  always  glad  to  do  a  lady 
a  favor  if  I  can  ;  you  may  set  'em  into  the  fore 
room  there  an'  welcome."  * 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  47 

Before  he'd  got  'em  half  took  out  of  the  basket, 
n  come  another  chap,  luggin  four  chairs.  And  then 
followed  a  boy  with  a  dish  kettle  in  one  hand,  filled 
up  with  a  mess  of  little  things,  and  the  shovel  and 
tongs  in  'tother.  Then  in  comes  a  little  gal  with  a 
looking  glass,  and  brought  it  along  to  Polly,  and 
says  she, 

"  Ma  wants  you  to  set  this  away  very  careful,  for 
she  wouldn't  have  it  broke  for  anything  in  the 
world,  'twould  be  sich  a  bad  sign." 

So  Polly  got  up  and  took  the  glass  and  hung  it  on 
a  nail  by  the  side  of  ourn.  By  the  time  we'd  done 
supper,  all  hands  had  been  back,  and  came  lugging 
in  another  load,  and  piled  it  up  in  the  fore-room. 
And  the  little  girl  said,  "  Ma  would  come  round 
bime  by  and  see  about  stoin  it  away."  And  back 
they  all  went  for  another  load.  I  see  that  Polly 
and  cousin  Nabby  begun  to  feel  a  little  nettled  ; 
but  I  told  them  'twasn't  best  to  mind  it :  we  should 
be  off  to-morrow,  and  we  could  put  up  with  a  little 
trouble  for  one  night,  jest  for  the  sake  of  doin  a 
kindness. 

Presently  in  they  come  again  with  as  much  as 
they  could  lug,  of  all  sorts  of  housen-stuffthat  you 
could  think  on.  And  at  last  Miss  Pinkham  herself 
come  puffin  and  blowin  up  three  pair  of  stairs,  and 
come  boltin  into  the  kitchen  where  we  was  all  set 
ting  ;  and  who  should  it  be  but  that  same  great  fat 
lady  that  I  told  about  in  my  last  letter,  come  to  ex 
amine  the  rooms  the  first  day  the  bill  was  up  in 
February.  I  didn't  feel  over  and  above  good  na- 
tured  when  I  come  to  see  who  she  was.  Polly 
looked  as  though  she  felt  a  little  wiry,  and  cousin 
Shabby  looked  as  red  as  a  flash.  I'm  commonly 
pretty  plain-spoken,  you  know,  ant ;  so  says  I, 

"  Miss  Pinkham,  have  you  hired  these  ere 
rooms  ?" 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  "  I've  rented  'em  for  a  year." 


48  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  what  did  'Squire  Sharp  give 
you  to  take  'em  V 

"Do  you  mean,"  says  she,  "what  rent  I  pay  for 
em  ?" 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  what  does  'Squire  Sharp  give 
you  to  take  'em  ?" 

"  Well,"  says  she,  "  I  don't  understand  sich  a 
question  as  that ;  so  you  may  as  well  leave  off  your 
jokes." 

"  But  when  you  was  here  lookin  at  these  ere 
rooms,  last  February,"  says  I,  "  you  said  you 
wouldn't  live  in  'em  if  any  body'd  give  'em  to  you."- 

"  Well,"  says  she,  "  I  thought  I  shouldn't  like  'em 
very  well  at  first;  but  on  the  whole  I  think  it's 
quite  a  nice  place — the  rooms  are  so  snug  and  gen 
teel." 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  I,  "  I  think  it  quite  a  good  place 
for  eighty  dollars." 

"  Eighty  dollars  !"  says  she,  "  I  hope  you  don't 
think  I  give  eighty  dollars  for  it.  I  know  how  to 
work  Squire  Sharp  better  than  that.  I  run  it  down 
to  him  to  the  lowest  notch  ;  told  him  there  wasn't 
a  single  convenience  about  it ;  only  one  little  stiv- 
ed  up  closet,  and  'twas  all  up  and  down  stairs,  and 
I  didn't  believe  he  could  hardly  hire  a  decent  family 
to  live  there.  I  offered  him  fifty  dollars,  and  stuck 
to  it  about  two  months,  and  he  stuck  to  eighty,  and 
said  he  wouldn't  take  a  penny  less.  But  at  last  this 
morning,  I  asked  him  if  he  was*  going  to  let  me 
have  the  rooms  for  fifty  dollars  ;  if  not  I  was  going 
ri^ht  off  to  take  another  house  that  I  had  had  the 
offer  of  a  great  deal  cheaper.  At  that  he  looked  as 
if  he'd  bite  a  board  nail  off,  and  says  he,  if  you're  a 
mind  to  give  me  sixty  dollars  you  may  have  it,  and* 
that's  the  lowest.  Nobody  shall  have  it  for  less 
than  that  if  I  have  to  shut  it  -up  for  a  whole  year. 
Well  I  told  him  I'd  take  it ;  so  I  got  it  for  sixty  dol 
lars,  and  glad  enough  was  I,  for  I'd  made  up  my 


JACK    DOVXIXG'S    LETTERS.  49 

mind  to  give  eighty  if  I  couldn't  get  it  for  no  less. 
And  now  if  you'll  jest  let  me  stow  away  a  few 
things  here  to-night,  it'll  be  a  great  convenience  to 
me.  It's  sich  an  awful  job  to  move  May-day,  I 
want  to  get  clear  of  as  much  of  it  as  I  can." 

You  know,  I'm  one  of  those  sort  of  folks,  if  any 
body  asks  a  favor  of  me,  I  can't  never  refuse,  so  I 
told  her  yes,  she  might  stow  in  what  she'd  a  mind 
to.  But  I  didn't  s'pose  she  was  going  to  bring  in 
much  more,  for  they'd  got  our  fore  room  piled  up 
so  full  then  that  we  couldn't  hardly  get  across  it  to 
go  to  bed.  You  know  Polly  and  I  had  our  bed  in 
the  fore-room,  because  we  hadn't  ony  two  sleepin 
rooms,  and  cousin  Nabby  and  the  two  youngest 
children  slept  in  one,  and  Jacky  and  Ichabod  in 
'tother.  So  I  thought  of  course  she  wouldn't  bring 
in  nothin  more  that  night,  ony  put  to  rights  a  little 
what  was  already  there,  bein  it  was  getting  pretty 
late  in  the  evening.  But  I  was  mistaken,  for  we 
hadn't  hardly  done  talking,  when  her  regiment  of 
Irishmen  and  boys  and  gals  come  clattering  up  the 
stairs  again  with  loads  of  barrels  and  bedsteads, 
and  pots  and  kettles,  and  washstands,  and  chairs, 
and  baskets  of  tin  dishes,  and  I  don't  know  what 
all.  Poor  Polly  began  to  look  a  little  streaked,  and 
I  thought  myself  it  was  crowdin  a  little  too  hard. 
So  I  told  Miss  Pinkham  I  thought  she  better  let  the 
rest  be  till  mornin,  for  if  they  brought  in  much  more 
we  should  all  get  mixed  up  so  bime  by,  'twould  be 
difficult  to  pick  our  things  out  when  we  came  to 
move.  But  she  said,  O  no,  she'd  help  to  do  all 
that ;  and  'twould  be  so  very  convenient  for  her  to 
bring  in  a  few  more  things  to-night ;  and 't wouldn't 
be  any  trouble  to  us  at  all.  And  then  she  turns 
round  to  her  company,  and  says  she,  '  Come,  boys 
and  gals,  make  haste  back  and  bring  in  some  more 
as  fast  as  you  can." 

Then  she  went  along  to  our  bed  and  felt  of  it, 


50  JACK  DOWNIETG'S  LETTERS. 

and  says  she,  "  Oh,  marcy,  you  havn't  carried  out 
your  straw  yet ;  I  hope  you  aint  a  goin  to  leave 
that  till  to-morrow  ;  'twill  clutter  the  house  all  up 
when  we  shall  want  to  be  a  setting  up  our  things. 
Do  pray  carry  it  out  to-night ;  there's  fires  enough 
in  the  street  now." 

At  that  Polly  said  she  guessed  I  better  carry  it 
out,  as  she  sposed  't  was  the  custom  for  every  body 
to  do  it.  So  at  it  I  went  and  carried  down  the 
straw  beds,  and  lugged  them  off  a  few  rods  to  one 
of  the  fires,  and  emptied  'em  out.  As  I  turned 
round  the  corner  by  tother  end  of  our  block,  there 
was  a  couple  of  men  walked  before  me,  talking  to 
gether,  and  I  knew  in  a  minute  one  of  em  was 
'Squire  Sharp's  voice.  T'other  one  was  a  short  fat 
gentleman,  that  seemed  to  be  in  a  good  deal  of  a 
pet  because  he  couldn't  let  his  houses. 

"  What,  havn't  you  let  yourn  yet,"  says  the 
Squire. 

"  No,"  says  the  fat  gentleman,  "  I've  got  six  good 
houses  now  that  aint  let,  besides  several  parts. — 
Hang  the  housen,  and  tenants  too.  I  wish  I  didn't 
own  one.  If  all  my  property  was  in  bank  stock,  or 
something  else,  that  would  bring  me  four  per  cent. 
I  should  be  glad." 

"  Well,"  says  'Squire  Sharp,  "  I  always  make  it 
a  pint  to  let  all  my  tenements  before  the  first  oi 
May,  whether  or  no.  If  I  can't  get  one  price  I  take 
another ;  and  I  makes  all  my  houses  net  me  eight 
per  cent,  good." 

Thinks  I,  Mr.  fat  gentleman,  if  you  was  as  lean 
as  'Squire  Sharp  is,  and  looked  after  your  houses 
as  close,  you'd  get  eight  per  cent,  too. 

"  I  always  think  it's  the  best  way,"  says  'Squire 
Sharp,  "  to  let  'em  at  all  events  before  the  first  ol 
May,  and  get  what  you  can.  And  then  be  sure  and 
look  arter  the  rents  and  not  loose  'em.  I  didn't  let 
my  last  tenement  till  this  morning.  I  always  asked 


JACK    DOWXIXG'S    LETTERS.  51 

eighty  dollars  for  it ;  but  I  let  it  go  for  sixty.  And 
if  the  woman  had  sot  out  to  a  gone  away  without 
taking  of  it,  I  should  a  let  her  had  it  for  fifty.  But 
the  main  thing  is  to  collect  your  rent,  after  all,  I 
don't  think  I've  lost  fifty  dollars  of  my  rent  these  five 
years." 

"  Zounds,"  said  the  fat  gentleman, "  I've  lost  more 
than  three  thousand  during  that  time.  But  I'm  de 
termined  to  look  after  em  more  close  in  future. 
Now  I  think  on't  there's  Miss  Pinkham  owes  me 
more  than  two  quarters  rent  now  ;  and  I'll  nab 
her  furniture  the  first  thing  to-morrow  morning 
arter  breakfast ;  for  I've  been  told  she's  a  little 
slippery  about  rents." 

"  She's  the  very  woman,"  says  the  Squire,  "  that 
took  my  tenement  this  morning.  But  I'm  safe,  for 
I  make  her  pay  weekly  in  advance.  That's  the 
way  I  serve  all  my  tenants  that  I  aint  sure  about." 

"  Well,"  said  the  fat  gentleman,  "  I  guess  you'll 
have  to  let  your  rooms  to  somebody  else  arter  all ; 
for  I'm  determined  to  stop  Miss  Pinkham's  furniture 
to-morrow  morning,  the  first  thing  arter  breakfast." 

At  that  I  couldn't  help  laffin  in  my  sleeve  a 
little,  for  I  thought  I  could  begin  to  see  how  the  cat 
was  jumpin'.  And  thinks  I,  Mr.  fat  gentleman,  I 
guess  you  aint  in  the  habit  of  getting  up  any  too 
early  in  the  morning ;  and  I  shouldn't  be  afraid  to 
wage  a  large  potato  you  wont  be  up  in  time  to  nab 
that*  are  housen-stuff  of  Miss  Pinkham's  arter  all. 
By  this  time  I'd  got  out  of  their  hearing,  and  they 
went  along,  and  I  went  home.  When  I  went  up 
stairs,  I  found  they'd  got  the  floor  of  the  fore  room 
all  covered  with  housen-stufF,  from  one  to  two  feet 
deep,  and  had  begun  to  pile  it  up  round  the  kitchen  : 
and  Miss  Pinkham  was  hurrying  her  boys  and  gals 
and  her  stout  Irishman  to  make  haste  and  bring  in 
as  fast  as  they  could.  And  they  kept  it  agoin  right 
and  tight  till  about  midnight,  and  then  I  could  see 


52  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

by  the  tag  ends  of  all  sorts  of  matters  and  things 
that  begun  to  come  along,  that  they  was  about 
winding  up  the  business. 

Polly  is  naterally  very  kind,  you  know,  and  hates 
to  hurt  any  body's  feelings,  or  disappoint  'em  if  she 
can  help  it ;  so  she  tried  to  put  up  with  it  the  best 
way  she  could.  But  she  begun  to  grow  most  heart 
sick  about  it ;  for  you  know  how  neat  Polly  always 
keeps  everything  about  her  house,  and  a  good  deal 
of  Miss  Pinkham's  truck  that  they'd  piled  about  our 
fore- room  and  kitchen  was  dirty  enough  to  turn  a 
dog's  stomach.  And  there  we'd  got  to  sleep  right 
among  it  till  next  morning.  But  still  Polly  didn't 
make  no  complaints,  though  I  see  she  felt  bad 
enough.  Cousin  Nabby  had  got  tired  and  gone  to 
bed  with  the  two  youngest  children  about  ten 
o'clock.  Jacky  and  Ichabod  had  kept  their  eyes 
wide  open  till  eleven,  and  then  they  begun  to  nod 
about  and  fall  over  the  housen-stufT,  so  we  sent 
them  off  to  bed  in  'tother  bed-room.  And  now 
the  clock  had  struck  midnight,  and  Polly  and  I 
grew  very  tired  and  sleepy,  and  hoped  Miss  Pink- 
ham  and  her  boys  and  gals  would  clear  out  and  let 
us  have  a  little  chance  to  rest  afore  morning.  But 
when  they  got  through  bringing  up  their  truck,  the 
Irishman  stepped  up  to  her  and  asked  for  his 
pay.  She  told  him  to  call  the  next  day.  But  he 
said  no,  he  was  to  have  his  pay  as  soon  as  his  work 
was  done.  She  told  him  he  seemed  to  be  dreadful 
fraid  of  losing  two  shillings  ;  but  she  shouldn't  pay 
him  till  next  day  at  any  rate.  He  said  it  wasn't 
two  shillings  ;  he  was  to  have  half  a  dollar,  and  he 
was  to  have  his  pay  that  night,  and  he  would  have 
it,  and  he  wouldn't  go  away  without  it,  at  all,  at  all. 

At  that  she  ketched  up  a  chair  and  told  him  "  if 
he  didn't  get  down  stairs  in  a  minit  she'd  beat  his 
brains  out,  a  good-for-nothin'  imperdent  brute." 

And  down  the  feller  run  as  if  he'd  break  his  neck, 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  53 

and  whether  he's  got  his  half  dollar  yet  I  don't 
know.  Polly  looked  as  if  she'd  faint  away,  but  I 
told  her  I'd  seen  worse  squalls  than  that,  when  I 
used  to  live  to  Washington,  with  Gineral  Jackson. 

"  Now  we've  got  all  our  things  here,"  says  Miss 
Pinkham,  "  I  guess  we'll  spread  down  the  carpet, 
and  some  rugs  and  bedclothes,  and  sleep  here  in 
the  kitchen  to-night,  for  I  wouldn't  disturb  you  in 
'tother  room  where  you  sleep,  on  no  account.  I'm 
one  of  them  sort  of  folks  that  always  hates  to 
trouble  a  body."  At  that  she  began  to  haul  the 
dusty  things  about,  to  make  up  a  bed  on  the  kitchen 
floor.  I  told  her,  any  way  she'd  a  mind  to  fix  it, 
if  she'd  only  get  quiet  pretty  soon,  so  we  might  get 
a  little  rest  afore  daylight. 

"  But  where  be  I  goin  to  sleep,  mother  ?"  says  her 
great  lubberly  boy,  that  had  been  fetchin'  up  housen- 
stuff  all  the  evening.  "  I  aint  agoin'  to  sleep  here 
on  the  floor  long  with  you  and  the  gals  I  guess." 

"Well,  Jimmy,"  says  Miss  Pinkham,"!  guess 
Miss  Downing  will  let  you  sleep  in  the  bed-room 
long  with  her  two  little  boys.  But  you  must  mind 
and  not  wake  'em  up  so  as  to  be  a  trouble ;  I  hate 
to  be  a  trouble  to  any  body." 

Polly  looked  as  if  she'd  die  ;  but  she  began  to 
be  so  afraid  of  Miss  Pinkham  after  she  took  up  the 
chair  to  the  Irishman,  that  if  she'd  ask  'd  for  our 
bed,  I  don't  think  but  what  she  would  agin  it  right 
up  to  her,  and  slept  on  the  floor  ourselves.  I  thought 
I  wouldn't  interfere  about  it,  for  I  knew  there  would 
be  a  fuss  if  I  did,  and  I  thought  it  was  high  time 
we  all  of  us  had  a  little  rest. 

So  Jimmy  went  off  to  bed,  in  the  bed-room,  and 
Miss  Pinkham  and  her  two  gals  camped  down  on 
the  kitchen  floor,  and  Polly  and  I  clambered  alon^ 
as  well  as  we  could  over  the  heaps  of  housen-stuif 
to  our  bed  in  the  fore-room.  Arter  we'd  laid  about 
an  hour,  and  I  begun  to  feel  kind  of  drowsy,  and 


54  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

thought  I  should  get  a  nap,  I  heard  a  rumpus  in 
the  kitchen.  And  bimeby  I  heard  Miss  Pinkham 
thumping  away  at  the  bed-room  door,  and  calling 
Jimmy.  He  didn't  answer  till  she  went  clear  in 
and  give  him  a  shake,  and  says  she, 

"  Jimmy,  you  didn't  bring  that  grid-iron  and 
poker,  that  stood  in  the  cellar- way,  now." 

"  Yes.  I  did,"  says  he,  "  I  brought  it  myself." 

"  No  you  didn't,"  says  she,  "  for  I  haint  seen  no- 
thin  of  it." 

"  I  did  bring  it,"  says  he, "  and  put  it  into  a  barrel 
behind  the  door  in  the  fore-room." 

"  You  sure  ?"  says  she. 

"  Yes  I  am  sure  ;  I  remember." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  on't,"  says  she,  "  but  I'll 
know." 

So,  in  she  come,  bolting  into  our  room,  and  fum 
bled  and  clambered  along  in  the  dark,  till  she  got 
to  the  barrel  behind  the  door,  and  felt  in  it,  and 
says  she, 

"Well,  I  declare,  'tis  here  arter  all.  Jimmy  has 
an  excellent  memory." 

In  climbing  back  again,  over  the  housen-stuff, 
somehow  or  other  she  stumbled,  headlong  among 
the  bedsteads  and  barrels,  and  screamed  out, 

"  Oh  dear,  I've  half  broke  my  head  ;  Miss  Down 
ing,  have  you  got  any  camfire  ?" 

There,  ant  Keziah,  I've  got  to  break  right  off 
short  again  before  I  get  through  the  story  about 
the  movin,  for  the  printer  says  he  can't  stand  no 
longer  yarn  to-day.  But  I'll  sartinly  give  you  the 
upshot  on't  about  movin  day  in  my  next. 

So  I  remain  your  loving  nephew, 

MAJOR  JACK  DOWNING. 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  55 


LETTER  III. 

To  AUNT  KEZIAH  DOWNING,  wife  of  Uncle  Joshua,  of  Down- 
ingville,  Maine. 

THE  UPSHOT  OF  THE  STORY  ABOUT  MOVING. 

New   York,  May  8,  1845. 

DEAR  AUNT  KEZIAH, — As  I  was  a  saying  in  my 
last  letter,  Miss  Pinkham  tumbled  headforemost 
among  the  barrels  and  bedsteads,  and  heaps  o' 
things  in  our  fore-room,  and  screamed  out,  "  Oh 
dear,  Miss  Downing,  have  you  got  any  camfire  ? 
oh.  I'm  half  killed." 

At  that,  Polly  sprung  out  of  bed  like  a  shot. 
There's  no  body  has  more  feelin'  for  a  fellow- 
creeter  than  Polly  has,  tho'  I  say  it  myself;  and 
the  way  she  runs  when  she  sees  anybody  in  dis 
tress  is  a  caution,  I  can  tell  ye,  to  all  the  chairs  and 
barrels  and  bed- posts  that  stand  in  the  way.  Polly 
was  kind  of  half  awake  and  half  asleep :  I  don't 
think  she'd  fairly  got  her  eyes  open,  and  if  she  had 
it  wouldn't  a  made  much  odds,  for  it  was  dark  as 
Egypt.  And  being  waked  all  of  a  sudden  right 
out" of  a  sound  sleep,  for  she'd  got  to  sleep,  though 
I  hadn't,  she'd  forgot  all  about  the  trumpery  that 
was  piled  about  the  room,  and  startin'  off  the  bed 
like  a  stream  of  lightning,  the  first  thing  that  brought 
her  up  was  a  basket  of  Miss  Pinkham's  crockery 
stuff.  She  pitched  right  over  it  and  went  sprawl 
ing  on  to  the  floor ;  and  the  tea-cups  and  the  mugs 
and  the  pitchers  flew  as  if  they'd  been  struck  with 
a  thunder  squall.  At  that,  Miss  Pinkham  bawled 
out  again,  and  by  the  sound  I  knew  she  was  up  'n 
eend  and  climbled  over  the  barrels  ;  and  says  she, 

"  Now,  Miss  Downing,  what  have  you  done  1  If 
you've  broke  my  new  blue  set,  you'll  wish  you 
hadn't  I  can  tell  ye." 


56  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTEES. 

Polly  didn't  make  no  answer,  but  only  groaned  ; 
and  I  knew  in  a  minute  she  was  hurt  pretty  bad ; 
so  I  thought  it  was  time  for  me  to  begin  to  muster. 
I  got  out  of  bed  as  careful  as  I  could,  and  went 
feelin'  my  way  along  into  the  kitchen,  and  at  last  I 
found  a  loco-foco  match  and  lit  a  candle. 

"  Don't  bring  that  light  here,"  says  Miss  Pinkham 
says  she,  "  'till  you  hand  me  my  gownd." 

Says  I,  "I  don't  know  nothin'  about  your  gownd, 
nor  I  can't  stop  to  look  for't  now."  So  I  threw  a 
blanket  to  her,  and  told  her  she  might  rap  herself 
up  in  that.  I  found  Polly  wasn't  hurt  quite  so  bad 
as  I  was  afraid  she  was.  She  had  bruised  one  of 
her  arms  considerable,  and  struck  the  side  of  her 
head  pretty  hard  when  she  fell.  But  she  soon  be 
gun  to  get  over  it,  and  said  she  guessed  she  wasn't 
hurt  much. 

Miss  Pinkham  took  on  as  bad  as  ever,  and  said 
she  should  die  if  she  didn't  have  some  camfire  to 
put  on  her  head  ;  and  she  clim  along  over  the  things 
and  threw  herself  right  on  to  our  bed. 

"  Poor  creetur,"  says  Polly,  "  we  must  do  some 
thing  for  her  as  quick  as  we  can.  Do,  Jack,  hand 
me  that  bottle  of  camfire  on  the  upper  shelf  in  the 
closet." 

So  I  went  and  got  the  camfire  and  Polly  sot  to 
and  rubbed  the  old  lady's  head  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  she  got  to  sleep  and  lay  and  snored 
like  a  hoss.  I  told  Polly  I  guessed  she  better  lay 
down  aside  of  her  and  try  to  get  some  sleep  tu, 
and  I'd  set  up  the  rest  of  the  night  and  be  ready 
airly  in  the  morning  to  go  to  packing  up.  But 
Polly  said  she  was  afraid  of  disturbin'  of  her,  so 
she  laid  down  on  the  rugs  in  the  kitchen  to  rest  her 
and  get  a  little  nap.  I  knew  there  wasn't  no  more 
sleep  for  me  that  night ;  so  arter  Polly  got  to  sleep 
I  concluded  to  go  out  and  take  a  run ;  for  I  always 
found  that  was  the  best  way  to  keep  my  eyes  open 


JACK  DOWNINQ'S  LBTTEKS.  57 

when  there  wasn't  no  chance  to  sleep.  The  long 
rows  of  lamps  was  still  burning  by  the  sides  of  the 
streets,  and  I  walked  round  and  round  from  one 
street  to  another,  till  it  got  to  be  daylight,  and  then 
I  turned  to  go  home,  for  I  meant  to  be  driven  busi 
ness  pretty  airly. 

When  I  got  along  within  two  or  three  streets  of 
home,  there  was  a  couple  men  turned  the  corner 
right  afore  me,  and  I  walked  along  arter  'em. 
Pretty  soon  I  saw  one  of  'em  was  that  short,  stout, 
fat  landlord  that  I  see  the  night  afore  talking  with 
'Squire  Sharp.  And  says  he  to  the  man  that  was 
with  him, 

"  You've  got  your  warrant,  haint  ye  ?" 

"  Yes,"  says  the  other,  who  I  begun  to  think  by 
this  time,  was  a  constable  or  some  kind  of  an  offi 
cer,  for  he  carried  a  great,  heavy  cane  in  his  hand, 
and  looked  kind  of  savage-like. 

"  Well,"  says  the  stout  landlord,  "  you  must  take 
every  single  thing  there  is  in  the  house,  and  hold 
on  to  it,  and  if  they  don't  settle  the  rent,  we'll  sell 
'em  at  vendue  to-morrow.  Here's  the  house  ;  now 
do  your  duty.  I'll  stand  here  on  the  steps  till  you 
get  fairly  in  and  take  possession." 

At  that,  thinks  I,  I'll  stop  a  little  and  see  what's 
going  on  here.  I  stood  over  on  t'other  side  of  the 
street,  but  it  was  so  still  I  could  hear  all  they  said, 
for  it  was  so  airly  in  the  morning  there  wasn't  but 
very  few  folks  a  stirrin'.  The  officer  stepped  up 
to  the  door  and  rung  the  bell.  He  waited  a  minute 
and  nobody  didn't  come,  and  then  he  rung  again. 
Nobody  didn't  come  that  time,  and  then  he  rung 
again,  harder  than  he  did  afore.  Then  the  land 
lord  stepped  up  to  the  door  and  thumped  on  to  it 
with  his  fist,  and  says  he, 

"  There's  none  so  deaf  as  them  that  won't  hear ; 
but  they  needn't  think  to  work  us  in  this  way. 
This  door's  got  to  come  open  by  fair  means  or  foul. 


58  JACK   DOWNINU'S   LETTERS. 

and  I'll  be  the  first  person  that  goes  through  it,  if  1 
have  to  stand  here  all  day." 

And  then  he  thumped  on  to  the  door  again  with 
his  fist,  and  the  officer  rung  the  bell  harder  than 
ever.  And  they  kept  at  it  pretty  tight,  first  one 
and  then  t'other,  for  about  ten  minutes,  and  they 
made  sich  a  racket  that  the  neighbors  begun  to 
open  their  blinds  and  window-shutters,  and  look 
out  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  And  a  little  old 
man  poked  his  bald  head  out  of  the  third  story 
window,  right  over  where  I  stood,  and  says  he, 

"  What  are  ye  making  all  that  clatter  over  there 
for  ?  I  don't  believe  you'll  raise  anybody  if  you 
thump  all  day." 

"  Why,  aint  Miss  Pinkham  and  her  family  to 
home  ?"  says^  the  landlord. 

"  Well,  I  don't  believe  there's  a  soul  in  the  house." 
said  the  little  old  man — *'  if  there  had  been  you'd 
raised  'em  long  ago." 

"  But  they  haven't  moved,  have  they  ?"  says  the 
landlord. 

"  It's  a  wonder  to  me  if  they  haven't,"  said  the 
old  man  over  my  head,  "  for  they  was  to  work  till 
almost  midnight,  last  night,  carrying  out  their 
things." 

At  that  the  landlord  and  the  officer  looked  kind 
of  thunderstruck. 

"  I}o  you  know  where  they've  moved  to  ?"  says 
the  officer. 

"  I  don't  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  the  little 
old  man,  "  nor  I  don't  care,  if  they  wont  come  back 
to  our  neighborhood  again  ;  for  of  all  the  women 
to  get  into  every's  mess  and  upset  everybody's  dish, 
Miss  Pinkham  beats  all  that  ever  I  seeV' 

"  And  I  don't  see  but  she's  dished  us  too,"  said 
the  officer.  "  Well,  Mr.  Brown,  what  shall  we  do  'I 
How  shall  we  find  out  where  she's  gone  to  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  can  find  that  out  easy  enough,"  says  Mr. 


JACK  DOWNING 's  LETTERS.  59 

Brown,  "  for  she's  took  one  of  'Squire  Sharp's 
houses.  But  we'll  go  in  by  hook  or  by  crook ; 
may  be  she  hasn't  got  all  her  things  away  yet." 

So  they  went  down  to  the  basement  door — that 
means  a  door  that  goes  into  a  room  about  halfway 
between  a  cellar  and  a  room  above  ground — most 
all  the  houses  here  in  New  York  have  'em — and 
they  both  give  a  shove  against  the  door  as  tight  as 
they  could,  and  bust  it  right  open.  And  they  went 
in  and  looked  all  over  the  house,  and  come  out 
again  looking  sour  enough.  Mr.  Brown  used  some 
pretty  harsh  words,  and  swore  a  little. 

"  That's  always  my  luck,"  says  he.  "  Now  she's 
gone  with  two  quarter's  rent,  and  the  house  is  dam 
aged  as  much  as  another  quarter's  rent  besides. 
This  is  too  bad ;  I  had  no  idea  but  I  should  be  air 
ly  enough  to  grab  her  furniture  this  morning." 

Thinks  I,  Mr.  Brown,  getting  up  airly  one  morn 
ing  in  the  year  aint  quite  enough,  where  a  man  has 
slippery  folks  to  deal  w^th,  for  sich  folks  commonly 
want  looking  after  every  day,  airly  and  late. 

They  turned  and  went  away,  and  I  turned  tother 
way  and  went  home.  It  had  now  got  to  be  all 
broad  daylight,  and  there  begun  to  be  considera 
ble  of  a  bustle  in^  the  streets,  and  the  doors  and 
windows  began  to  be  opened,  and  the  hoss-carts 
began  to  rattle  along  over  the  stones  in  the  streets, 
and  to  back  up  to  the  doors,  and  folks  was  lug 
ging  out  their  housen-stuff  and  piling  it  on  the  carts, 
as  fast  as  we  used  to  pitch  hay  in  haying-time  in 
Downingville  when  there  was  a  shower  coming 
up.  So  I  thought  it  was  time  for  me  to  begin  to 
hurry,  for  I  hadn't  got  any  of  my  things  packed  up 
yet,  though  I  meant  to  a  had  'em  pretty  much  all 
packed  up  the  night  afore,  if  Miss  Pinkham  hadn't 
bothered. us  so.  When  I  got  up  stairs,  I  found  the 
whole  biling  of  'em  was  up,  and  in  pretty  consider 
able  kind  of  a  muss.  Things  was  all  pitch-poled, 


60  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

helter-skelter,  and  mixed  up  as  thick  again  as  tney 
was  when  I  went  out.  Polly  sot  in  the  corner, 
looking  as  if  she  hadn't  a  friend  in  the  world,  and  I 
believe  she  was  crying  a  little.  Her  arm  was  quite 
lame.  Miss  Pinkham  was  stavin'  about  like  a 
house-a-fire.  She'd  pulled  our  children  out  of  bed, 
and  they  was  scuddin'  about  half-dressed,  and  the 
little  ones  was  crying  ;  and  then  she'd  pulled  and 
hauled  all  our  things  out  of  the  two  bed-rooms,  and 
piled  'em  about  in  the  fore-room  and  kitchen,  so 
that  it  was  no  small  job  to  get  across  the  rooms 
anywhere  ;  and  she  was  fast  a  getting  some  of  her 
bedsteads  and  things  into  the  bed-rooms  to  set  up. 

"  Says  I,  "  Miss  Pinkham,  what  upon  airth  are 
you  doing  ?" 

"  What  am  I  doing?"  says  she — "why,  I'm  put 
ting  things  to  rights.  I  want  to  get  'em  all  out  of 
the  way  snug,  so  as  not  to  be  any  trouble  to  you ; 
for  I  don't^s'pose  there  anybody  in  this  world  that 
hates  to  be  a  trouble  to  anybody  in  this  world 
worse  than  I  do.  And  I  wouldn't  have  you  think, 
because  you  let  me  bring  my  things  in  here  before 
it  was  my  time  to  come  in,  that  I  mean  to  be  the 
least  trouble  to  you  in  the  world." 

"  Oh,  no,"  says  I,  "  Miss  Pinkham,  I  don't  think 
no  such  thing,  by  no  means.  Btft  perhaps  if  you'd 
let  my  things  stand  till  I  got  ready  to  pack  'em  up, 
I  might  know  better  where  to  take  hold  of 'em." 

"  Oh  no,"  says  she,  "  they're  all  out  on  the  floor 
there  now  as  handy  as  can  be  for  ye.  And  I've 
got  your  closet  all  cleared  out  too  ;  and  now  if 
you'll  jest  take  hold  of  t'other  side  of  this  ere  bask 
et  of  crockery,  and  help  me  carry  it  in  the  closet, 
I'll  be  settin'  it  up." 

So  I  took  hold  of  the  basket,  and  helped  her  along 
with  it,  and  says  I — 

"Miss  Pinkham,  I  was  very  sorry  about  the  acci- 


JACK    DOWNING  3    LETTERS.  61 

dent  that  happened  to  your  dishes  last  night.  I 
hope  it  didn't  break  much." 

"Only  three  cups  and  two  sarcers  and  a  mug," 
says  she,  "  and  Miss  Downing's  was  so  much  like 
em  we've  matched  em  again  very  well  out  of  hern 
this  morning ;  all  but  the  mug,  and  that  I  told  her 
she  might  pay  me  the  money  for.  It  cost  fifteen 
pence  when  'twas  new,  but  bein  it  had  an  old  crack 
in  it,  I  told  her  she  needn't  pay  me  but  a  shilling  for 
it." 

The  fact  was,  Polly  had  got  so  kind  of  nervous, 
and  so  afraid  of  Miss  Pinkham,  that  I  dont  believe 
but  what  she  would  a  gin  her  up  every  dish  we 
had  in  the  house  if  she'd  asked  for  em.  I  didn't 
like  this  way  of  settling  the  business  very  well,  arid 
couldn't  help  thinking  about  the  hedge-hog  that  beg 
ged  his  way  into  the  woodchuck's  hole,  only  jest  to 
lay  and  rest  him  a  little  while,  and  then  crowded 
and  crowded  until  he  drove  the  woodchuck  clear 
out,  and  kept  possession  of  the  nest  and  all  there 
was  in  it.  But  I  see  Miss  Pinkham  was  sich  a  fiery 
piece,  and  as  long  as  we  had  got  to  go  out,  I  thought 
the  cheapest  way  was  to  say  nothing  and  get  away 
as  easily  as  we  could.  And  it  wasn't  long  before 
I  was  still  more  confirmed  in  this  opinion ;  for  we 
hadn't  but  jest  set  the  basket  of  crockery  into  the 
closet,  when  somebody  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  says  I.  And  who  should  come  in, 
but  the  fat  landlord,  Mr.  Brown,  and  the  officer 
that  I'd  seen  with  him.  Miss  Pinkham's  face  turn 
ed  as  red  as  fire  in  a  minute,  and  she  shet  the 
closet  door  and  took  a  chair  and  sot  down. 

"  You've  moved,  haven't  you,  Miss  Pinkham  ?" 
said  Mr.  Brown,  looking  pretty  starn  at  her. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  says  she,  looking  as  starn  as  he 
4id. 

"  Well,  when  are  you  going  to  pay  that  rent  ?" 


62  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

says  he,  gritting  his  '  teeth  together,  and  edging 
along  up  to  her. 

"  When  I  get  it,"  says  she,  sticking  her  chin  out 
at  him,  and  showing  her  teeth,  like  a  cat  that  turns 
round  to  fight  a  dog  that's  drove  her  into  a  corner. 
"  And  I  guess  I  shant  worry  myself  about  it,  if 
'taint  paid  very  soon,"  says  she,  "  for  you  never 
kept  that  house  in  any  kind  of  repairs,  Mr.  Brown, 
and  you  know  it.  'Taint  scarcely  fit  to  live  in." 

"  Every  thing  was  in  good  order  when  you  went 
into  it,"  says  he,  and  all  the  rent  you've  ever  paid. 
I've  laid  out  in  repairs  ;  and  now  it  wants  fifty  dol 
lars  more  laid  out  right  upon  it  before  it  will  be  fit 
for  any  body  to  go  into.  There  isn't  a  window  in 
the  house  but  what's  got  glass  broke  out  of  it.' 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  nothing  about  how  that 
come,"  says  she,  "  we  didn't  break  none  of  it." 

"  Weil,"  says  he,  "  I  must  have  this  rent  or  some 
security  for  it,  before  I  leave  the  house,  or  I  shall 
take  some  of  your  furniture  and  sell  it  for  what 
t'will  fetch.  You've  gptlots  of  it  piled  about  here." 

At  that  Miss  Pinkham  begun  to  rave.  She 
sprung  up  on  her  feet,  and  stood  and  looked  Mr. 
Brown  in  the  face,  and  she  grew  as  red  as  a  blaze. 
And  says  she, 

"  You  touch  any  of  this  furniture  if  you  dare. 
And  these  things  about  here  aint  mine  neither, 
they're  Mr.  Downing's." 

At  that  Mr.  Brown  turned  to  me,  and  says  he, 
"  Mr.  Downing,  is  this  furniture  yourn  ?" 

I  wasn't  no  notion  of  telling  a  lie  for  any  of  'em. 
So,  says  I,  "  Some  on't  's  mine,  and  some  on't  isn't." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  which  is  yourn,  and  which  is 
Miss  Pinkham's." 

Says  I,  '  She's  got  matters  so  mixed  up  here, 
'twould  take  pretty  considerable  of  a  spell  to  pick 
em  out  I  guess.  But  most  of  these  things  about  the 
middle  of  the  room  is  mine,  and  most  of  them  are 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  63 

things  heaped  along  that  side  of  the  fore-room  and 
that  side  of  the  kitchen  is  hern. 

Then  he  stepped  along,  and  began  to  look  em  over, 
and  told  the  officer  to  take  this  thing  and  that  thing 
and  'tother  thing.  But  Miss  Pinkham  ketched  up 
a  chair  and  went  at  him  like  a  tiger,  and  says  she, 

"  Mr.  Brown,  if  you  aint  out  of  this  house  in  one 
minute,  I'll  break  this  chair  over  your  head."  And 
she  fetched  a  blow  at  him,  that,  if  he  hadn't  a 
dodged  it,  would  a  laid  him  sprawlin.  He  sprung 
for  the  door,  and  she  after  him  pell-mell.  He 
scrabbled  down  stairs  as  fast  as  he  could  waddle 
his  heavy  fat  sides  along,  and  she  arter  him,  hold 
ing,  the  chair  up  jest  ready  to  strike.  When  they 
got  about  half-way  down  stairs,  she  happened  to 
slip,  and  pitched  forward  against  Mr.  Brown,  and 
that  knocked  him  down,  and  away  they  rolled  like 
a  couple  of  hogsets  of  molasses  clear  to  the  bottom 
of  the  stairs.  Mr.  Brown  was  rather  more  scared 
than  hurt,  for  he  thought  the  old  woman  had 
jumped  right  on  to  him  and  knocked  him  down  stairs, 
and  he  roared  out  and  called  for  the  officer  to  come 
and  help  him.  But  the  officer  was  making  his  way 
as  fast  as  he  could  down  the  back  stairs,  and  got 
out  into  the  street  before  Mr.  Brown  did.  I  looked 
out  of  the  window,  and  I  see  em  both  jest  turning 
round  the  next  corner,  and  Mr.  Brown  was  limping 
along  so  lame,  he  couldn't  but  jest  go.  Presently 
Miss  Pinkham  came  puffing  along  up  the  stairs, 
and  muttering  to  herself,  "  I'll  larn  him  to  come  here 
to  meddle  with  my  things ;  a  good-for-nothing 
brute  ;  I'll  larn  him,  1  will."  And  says  she,  "  Mr. 
Downing,  I  broke  your  chair  driving  of  him  out,  but 
I  spose  you  won't  mind  that,  as  I  did  it  as  much 
for  your  good  as  for  mine  ;  for  there's  no  knowing 
how  many  of  your  things  he  might  a  carried  off  if 
I  hadn't  a  drove  him  out." 

I  told  her  it  wan't  but  little  consequence  about 


64  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

the  chair,  especially  as  she  had  some  pretty  much 
like  it,  and  when  we  come  to  load  up,  she  could  jest 
put  in  one  of  hern,  and  that  would  make  it  square 
again.  At  that  she  turned  round  and  give  me  such 
a  look  right  in  the  face,  that  I  declare  I  started  back 
as  much  as  three  feet  before  I  knew  it ;  and  says 
she, 

"'Mr.  Downing,  if  you  haint  no  more  gratitude 
than  that,  you  aint  fit  to  live  among  Christian 
people.  Do  as  you  would  be  done  by  ;  that's  my 
rule.  After  I've  drove  that  brute  out  of  your 
house,  and  no  doubt  kept  him  from  carrying  off 
some  of  your  things,  do  you  dare  to  ask  me  to  pay 
for  that  old  chair  ?" — and  she  stuck  her  chin  out 
and  flashed  her  eyes  jest  as  she  did  to  Mr.  Brown. 

"  Oh  no,  mam,"  says  I,  "  I  don't  wish  it  by  no 
means,  Miss  Pinkham." 

So  we  dropt  the  subject  and  said  no  more  about 
it.  If  it  had  been  a  man  I  should  a  known  what 
to  a  done  pretty  quick ;  for  I  never  was  made  to 
be  drove  by  a  man.  But  I  thought  I  wouldn't  get 
into  a  scrape  with  a  woman  if  she  broke  all  the 
chairs  in  the  house.  ^  So  at  it  I  went  to  packin  up. 
Polly  and  Cousin  Nabby  took  hold  in  good  arnest, 
and  Jacky  and  Ichabod  handed  and  fetched  things, 
so  that  we  got  'em  into  shape  pretty  fast.  About 
nine  o'clock  we'd  got  our  boxes  and  barrels  and 
chests  full,  and  the  small  ware  and  dishes  put 
into  the  wash-tubs  and  pots  and  kettles,  and  I  went 
out  to  find  a  team  to  haul  us.  I  could  find  teams 
fast  enough,  but  the  trouble  was  to  get  'em.  There 
wasn't  no  ox  teams  sich  as  we  have  in  Downing- 
ville  ;  but  there  was  no  end  to  the  one  hoss  teams, 
haulin  little  carts,  and  goin  like  split  all  over  the 
city.  I  run  arter  one  that  I  see  a  little  ways  off 
with  nothin  on  his  cart,  and  called  out  to  him  to 
stop.  He  looked  round  to  me  and  shook  his  head, 
and  drove  on  as  tight  as  ever.  But  I  pulled  arter 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  65 

him  and  hollered  again,  and  swung  my  hat,  and  at 
last  he  stopt  and  let  me  come  up  to  him.  Says  I, 

"  Mister,  I  want  to  hire  you  to  go  and  haul  up 
my  housen-stuff,  if  you  and  I  can  agree." 

He  put  his  thumb  up  against  his  nose,  and  shook 
his  fingers  at  me,  and  says  he, 

"  You  must  be  a  green  one,  and  no  mistake." 
And  he  gin  his  hoss  a  cut,  and  his  wheels  flew  over 
the  stones  again  as  fast,  and  made  as  much  of  a 
rattlin,  as  cousin  John  Smith's  drumsticks  when 
he's  beatin  for  the  regiment  muster  days. 

Then  I  see  another  drivin  along  full  chisel,  but  his 
cart  was  empty,  so  I  hollered  arter  him.  He  slacken 
ed  his  hoss  a  minute,  and  when  I  told  him  what  I 
wanted,  he  said  he  couldn't  go  no  how,  for  he'd  got 
fourteen  loads  engaged  to-day,  and  that  was  as 
much  as  he  could  possibly  get  through  with,  and 
work  half  the  night  too.  So  he  whipped  up,  and 
off  he  went  like  smoke.  I  called  arter  another,  and 
he  only  shook  his  head  and  drove  on.  I  run  round 
from  one  street  to  another  for  about  an  hour,  and 
my  stars  !  I  wouldn't  a  believed  there  was  so  much 
housen-stuff  in  America.  Every  street  was  full  of 
loaded  carts  and  empty  carts.  All  the  empty  ones 
was  driving  like  Jehu,  and  some  of  the  loaded  ones 
was  goin  so  fast  I  thought  they'd  smash  every 
thing  all  to  atoms,  except  now  and  then  one,  where 
the  owner  of  the  housen-stuff  was  goin  along  with  it 
to  watch  it.  At  last,  after  trying  a  good  many  of  'em, 
I  found  one  that  said  he  didn't  know  but  he  might  go. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  Mister,  what'll  ye  ask  ?" 

"  T-wo  dollars  and  a  half  a  load,"  says  he. 

"  But  that's  a  most  unreasonable  price,"  says  I. 

"  Can't  help  that,"  says  he,  "  nobody  don't  take 
any  less  to-day.  And  some  of  'em  gets  three  or 
four  dollars  a  load.  Come,  speak  quick,  if  you 
want  me,"  says  he,  "  for  I  can't  wait." 

"  Well,  now,"  says  I,  **  Mister,  that  price  is  beyond 
5 


66  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

all  reason.  Couldn't  you  and  I  work  it  so  as  to 
change  works  ?  I'm  sure  I  should  be  willing  to  do 
you  as  good  a  turn  as  you  would  me.  If  you'll  go 
and  work  for  me  half  a  day  with  yourself  and 
hoss,  I'll  work  for  you  a  whole  day,  and  take  my 
Jacky  with  me,  and  he's  a  smart  boy  most  fourteen 
years  old." 

At  that,  I'll  be  hanged  if  he  didn't  put  his  thumb 
up  agin  his  nose,  jest  as  that  teamster  did  that  I 
stopt  first;  it  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  a  way  they 
have  here  when  they  want  to  be  very  sassy ;  and 
says  he, 

"  Rather  green,  I  guess  ;  when  d'ye  come  down  ?" 
and  he  gin  his  hoss  a  cut  and  along  he  went. 

Arter  a  while  I  found  an  old  man  with  a  lean  old 
hoss,  that  had  sort  of  gridiron  ribs,  and  he  said  he'd 
go  for  two  dollars  a  load.  I  found  I  was  getting 
into  a  corner,  for  it  had  got  to  be  eleven  o'clock, 
and  I'd  seen  enough  of  Miss  Pinkham  to  expect 
she'd  begin  to  reign  as  soon  as  the  clock  struck 
twelve.  So  I  told  the  old  man  he  mi^ht  go  ;  and 
we  drove  home  and  went  to  loading.  \Ve  laid  the 
bedsteads  on  lengthways,  and  then  the  buro  on 
crossways  and  back  down,  and  next  to  that  come 
a  chist  of  clothes,  and  then  two  tables  bottom  up 
wards,  and  then  two  flour  barrels  full  of  little 
things  on  behind,  and  a  light  stand  between  'em 
bottom  upwards.  And  then  we  filled  in  a  laying 
of  little  things  all  the  way  from  one  end  to  'tother  ; 
and  then  we  laid  on  the  feather  bed  that  you  give 
Polly  when  we  came  away  from  Downingville  ; 
and  then  we  put  on  some  baskets,  the  tubs  of  dishes 
and  things,  and  rounded  off  towards  the  top  with 
bed-clothes,  and  light  truck  and  then  we  hung  a 
row  of  chairs  all  round  on  the  stakes.  By  running 
a  rope  round  the  stakes  and  binding  up  pretty  well, 
the  cart  took  on  more  than  I  expected,  and  I  begun 
to  be  in  hopes  we  might  carry  it  all  to  one  load. 


67 

The  old  man  said  he  could  carry  it  all  well  enough, 
if  I'd  a  mind  to  resk  it's  staying  on.  So  we  went 
to  piling  on  again,  and  chucking  in  and  filling  up 
all  the  holes  between  things.  Some  of  the  top 
things  was  rather  loose  and  tottlish,  so  we  put  Jacky 
right  up  top  and  let  him  set  straddle  of  the 
load  to  steady  it.  And  then  we  had  to  give  him  a 
basket  full  of  tumblers  and  glass  things  to  hold  in 
his  hand.  Cousin  Nabby  took  little  Joshy,  and 
Polly  took  the  looking  glass,  and  I  took  the  military 
coat  that  Gineral  Jackson  give  me  when  I  lived  to 
Washington,  and  hung  it  across  my  arm,  for  I  never 
allow  that  coat  to  be  jammed  away  into  a  chist  or 
buro  ;  and  uncle  Joshua's  portrait,  that  I've  had  put 
into  a  nice  brass  frame  since  we've  been  here,  I 
took  in  t'other  hand.  Then  I  told  the  old  man  he 
might  start  along,  and  we'd  walk  behind  and  keep 
watch.  I  felt  a  little  anxious  about  Jacky  on  top 
of  the  load  ;  but  he's  a  smart  boy,  and  he  hung  on 
and  managed  things  pretty  well.  But  sich  a  sight  of 
teams  and  folks  as  there  was  all  along  the  streets, 
carryin  all  sorts  of  housen-stuff,  I  don't  think  you 
ever  see  or  dreampt  of.  The  streets  was  full  of 
carts  goin'  and  comin,  and  the  side- walks  was  full 
of  men,  women  and  children  carrying  things  in 
their  hands. 

When  we  had  got  about  half  way,  the  cart  had 
got  along  a  little  ways  a  head  of  us,  and  I  was  look 
ing  back  at  the  crowd  behind  us,  when  all  to  once 
Polly  screamed  out  "  there  goes  Jacky." 

I  looked,  and  Jacky  was  flying  in  the  air  like  a 
toad  from  a  trap-stick.  One  of  them  great  hoss 
wagons  they  call  omnibusses  here,  had  run  full  tilt 
right  against  the  cart,  and  knocked  every  thing  into 
a  kind  of  a  cocked  hat.  It  didn't  exactly  upset  the 
cart,  but  it  knocked  off  about  one  half  the  top-load, 
and  sent  Jacky  clear  from  the  middle  of  the  street  on 
to  the  side  walk.  The  omnibus  fellow  drove  on  as 


68  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

fast  as  he  could  drive,  and  never  stopt  to  look  back. 
I  was  afraid  Jacky  was  almost  killed,  and  I  run  as 
hard  as  I  could  to  pick  him  up ;  but  he  struck 
pretty  much  on  his  feet,  and  wasn't  hurt  much  arter 
all.  He  held  on  to  the  basket,  but  the  glass  was 
smashed  all  to  pieces.  When  Polly  came  up  she 
couldn't  help  cryin.  But  I  told  her  it  was  no  use  to 
cry  for  spilt  milk.  Jacky  was  saved  alive,  and 
therefore  we  had  a  great  deal  more  to  be  thankful 
for  than  we  had  to  cry  for.  As  for  the  glass  dishes 
and  things  we  could  soon  go  to  work  and  earn  some 
more,  and  the  best  way  was  to  pick  up  the  things 
and  get  'em  home  as  well  as  we  could  and  make  the 
the  best  of  it.  So  Polly  wiped  up,  and  we  all  went 
to  work  to  put  things  to  rights  as  well  as  we 
could.  A  good  many  of  the  things  was  broke,  and 
some  was  jammed  and  twisted  out  of  all  shape.  We 
had  to  pile  'em  up  on  the  side  walk,  and  Polly 
and  Nabby  stay  by  'cm  and  watch  'em,  while  we 
went  along  to  the  house  and  onloaded  what  there 
was  left  on  the  cart ;  and  then  we  went  back  and 
picked  up  the  fragments,  and  about  sunset  we  got 
'em  all  tumbled  into  the  house  in  heaps,  and  never 
was  I  so  glad  to  get  through  with  a  job  afore  in  all 
my  life.  We  made  up  some  beds  on  the  floor  that 
night,  and  if  we  didn't  sleep  I  think  it's  a  pity. 

I  would  tell  you  a  great  many  queer  things,  how 
the  great  rich  folks  moved,  and  how  the  poor  folks 
moved,  and  about  landlords  nabbing  housen-stuff 
and  selling  it  at  vendue,  and  about  some  poor  cree- 
ters  bein  turned  out  of  doors,  and  no  house  to  put 
their  heads  into,  and  setting  and  crying  all  day  and 
all  night  out  on  the  side  walk.  Polly's  cried  about 
it  a  half  a  dozen  times  since,  she  pitied  'em  so. 
But  I  haint  got  time  to  write  no  more  to-day.  I 
hope  you  and  uncle  Joshua  will  come  and  make  us 
a  visit  this  summer,  and  then  we  can  tell  you  all 
about  it.  But  there's  no  day  in  this  world,  aunt 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  69 

Keziah,  like  May-day  in  New  York,  you  may  de* 
pend  on't.  Give  my  love  to  Uncle  Joshua,  and  I 
remain, 

Your  loving  nephew, 

MAJOR  JACK  DOWNING. 


70  JACK  DOWNISG'S  LETTEES. 


SKETCHES  FROM  LIFE. 


[NoTE  BY  THE  PUBLISHERS.  The  following  stories  and  sketches 
of  humor  are  inserted  at  the  special  request  of  Major  Downing,  and  by 
consent  of  the  author.  ] 


The  names  used  in  the  following  narrative  are  of  course 
fictitious  ;  bat  the  incidents  all  occurred  substantially  as  here 
related,  and  the  parties  are  respectable  gentlemen  now  living 
and  doing  business  in  this  bustling  city  of  New  York.  The 
writer  had  the  account  directly  from  the  lips  of  the  principal 
actor.  It  also  should  be  added  that  Mr.  Sharp  described  in 
this  article  is  not  Squire  Sharp,  the  landlord,  mentioned  by 
Major  Downing  in  his  excellent  letters,  though  it  is  not  im 
probable  he  may  be  a  second  or  third  cousin.] 

PERSEVERANCE: 

OR  PETER  PUNCTUAL'S  WAY  TO  COLLECT  BILLS. 

BY    SEBA.    SMITH. 

Some  few  years  ago,  Peter  Punctual,  an  honest 
and  industrious  young  fellow  from  Yankee  land — I 
say  Yankee  land,  but  I  freely  confess  that  is  merely 
an  inference  of  mine,  drawn  from  circumstances  of 
this  story  itself;  but  if  my  readers,  after  perusing 
it,  do  not  come  to  the  same  conclusion,  they  may 
set  him  down  as  coming  from  any  other  land  they 
pleasft  ;  but  for  myself,  were  I  on  a  jury,  and  under 
oath,  I  would  bring  him  in  a  Yankee.  This  same 
Peter  Punctual,  some  few  years  ago,  came  into 
New  York,  and  attempted  to  turn  a  penny  and  get 
an  honest  living  by  procuring  subscribers  to  vari- 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  71 

ous  magazines  and  periodicals,  on  his  own  hook. 
That  is,  he  would  receive  a  quantity  of  magazines 
from  a  distant  publisher,  at  a  discount,  and  get  up 
his  own  list  of  subscribers  about  the  city,  and  serve 
them  through  the  year  at  the  regular  subscription 
price,  which  would  leave  the  amount  of  the  said 
discount  a  clear  profit  in  his  pocket,  or  rather  a 
compensation  for  his  time  and  labor.  There  are 
many  persons  in  this  city  who  obtain  a  livelihood  in 
the  same  way. 

Peter's  commissions  being  small,  and  his  capital 
still  smaller,  he  was  obliged  to  transact  his  business 
with  great  care  and  circumspection,  in  order  to 
make  both  ends  meet.  He  adopted  a  rule  therefore 
to* make  all  his  subscribers  pay  their  year's  sub 
scription  in  advance.  Such  things  could  be  done 
in  those  days  when  business  was  brisk,  and  the  peo 
ple  were  strangers  to  "  hard  times/'  In  canvassing 
for  subscribers,  one  day,  through  the  lower  part  of 
the  city,  and  in  the  principal  business  streets,  he  ob 
served  a  store  which  had  the  air  of  doing  a  heavy 
business,  and  read  upon  the  sign  over  the  door, 
"  Solomon  Sharp.  Importer"  of  certain  wares  and 
merchandize.  The  field  looked  inviting,  and  in 
Peter  went  with  his  samples  under  his  arm,  and  in 
quired  for  Mr.  Sharp.  The  gentleman  was  point 
ed  out  to  him  by  the  clerks,  and  Peter  stepped  up 
and  asked  him  if  he  would  not  like  to  subscribe  for 
some  magazines. 

"  What  sort  of  ones  have  you  got  there?"  said 
Mr.  S. 

"  Three  or  four  different  kinds,"  said  Peter,  laying 
the  specimens  on  the  desk  before  him — "  please  to 
look  at  them  and  suit  yourself." 

Sharp  tumbled  them  over  and  examined  them 
one  after  another,  and  at  last  took  up  "  Bucking 
ham's  New  England  Magazine,"  published  at  Bos 
ton. 


72  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

"  What  are  your  terms  for  this  ?"  said  he ;  "I 
don't  know  but  I  would  subscribe  for  this." 

"  Five  dollars  a  year  in  advance,"  said  Peter,  "  to 
be  delivered  carefully  every  month  at  your  store  or 
house." 

"  But  I  never  pay  in  advance  for  these  things," 
said  Sharp.  "  It's  time  enough  to  pay  for  a  thing 
when  you  get  it.  I'll  subscribe  for  it,  if  you  have  a 
mind  to  receive  your  pay  at  the  end  of  the  year, 
and  not  otherwise." 

"  That's  against  my  rule,"  said  Peter  ;  "  I  have 
all  my  subscribers  pay  in  advance." 

"  Well,  it's  against  my  rule  to  pay  for  anything 
before  I  get  it,"  said  Sharp  ;  "  so  if  you  haven't  a 
mind  to  take  my  subscription,  to  be  paid  at  the  end 
of  the  year,  you  won't  get  it  at  all.  That's  the  long 
and  the  short  of  the  matter." 

Peter  paused  a  little,  and  queried  with  himself  as 
to  what  he  had  better  do.  The  man  was  evident 
ly  doing  a  large  business,  and  was  undoubtedly 
rich — a  wholesale  dealer  and  an  importer — there 
could  not  possibly  be  any  danger  of  losing  the  sub 
scription  in  such  a  case  :  and  would  it  not  be  bet 
ter  to  break  over  his  rule  for  once,  than  to  lose  so 
good  a  subscriber. 

"  Well,  what  say  ?"  said  Sharp ;  "  do  as  you 
like  ;  but  those  are  my  only  terms.  I  will  not  pay 
for  a  thing  before  I  get  it." 

"  On  the  whole,"  said  Peter,  "  I  have  a  good  mind 
to  break  over  my  rule  this  time,  for  I  don't  like  to « 
lose  a  good  subscriber  when  I  can  find  one.     I  be 
lieve  I'll  put  your  name   down,  sir.     Where   will 
you1  have  it  left  ?" 

"  At  my  house,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  which  was 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  his  store,  away  up 
town. 

The  business  being  thus  concluded,  Peter  took 
up  his  magazines,  bade  Mr.  Sharp  good  morning, 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  73 

and  left  the  store.  No  further  personal  intercourse 
occurred  between  them  during  the  year.  But  Pe 
ter,  who  was  his  own  carrier,  as  well  as  canvasser, 
regularly  every  month  delivered  the  New  England 
Magazine  at  Mr.  Sharp's  door.  And  in  a  few  days 
after  the  year  expired,  he  made  out  his  bill  for  the 
five  dollars,  and  called  at  Mr.  Sharp's  store  for  the 
money.  He  entered  with  as  much  confidence  that 
he  should  receive  the  chink  at  once,  as  he  would 
have  had  in  going  with  a  check  for  the  like  sum  in 
to  the  Bank  of  the  United  States,  during  that  insti 
tution's  palmiest  days.  He  found  Mr.  Sharp  at  his 
desk,  and  presented  him  the  bill.  That  gentleman 
took  it  and  Idoked  at  it,  and  then  looked  at  Peter. 

"  Oh  !  ah,  good  morning,"  said  he,  "  you  are  the 
young  man  who  called  here  on  this  business  nearly 
a  year  ago.  Well,  the  year  has  come  round,  has 
it?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it  has,"  said  Peter. 

"  Well,  bills  of  this  kind,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  "  are 
paid  at  the  house.  We  don't  attend  to  them  here ; 
you  just  take  it  to  the  house,  any  time  when  you  are 
passing,  and  it  will  be  settled." 

"  Oh,  very  well,  sir,"  said  Peter,  bowing,  and  left 
the  store.  "  Doing  too  large  a  business  at  the  store, 
I  suppose,"  he  continued,  to  himself,  as  he  walked 
up  the  street,  "  to  attend  to  little  things  of  this  kind. 
Don't  like  to  be  bothered  with  'em,  probably." 

But  Peter  thought  he  might  as  well  make  a  finish 
of  the  business,  now  he  was  out ;  so  he  went  di 
rectly  to  the  house,  and  rung  at  the  door.  ,The 
servant  girl  soon  made  her  appearance. 

"  Mrs.  Sharp  within  ?"  said  Peter. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Jest  carry  this  bill  to  her,  if  you  please,  arid  ask 
her  if  she  will  hand  you  the  money  for  it." 

The  girl  took  the  bill  into  the  house,  and  present 
ly  returned  with  the  answer,  that  "  Mrs.  Sharp  says 
4 


74  JACK  DOWNING' s  LETTERS. 

she  doesn't  pay  none  of  these  'ere  things  here — you 
must  carry  it  to  the  store." 

"  Please  to  carry  it  back  to  Mrs.  Sharp,"  said 
Peter,  "  and  tell  her  Mr.  Sharp  desired  me  to  bring 
the  bill  here,  and  said  it  would  be  paid  at  the 
house." 

This  message  brought  Mrs.  Sharp  herself  to  the 
door,  to  whom  Peter  raised  his  hat  and  bowed  very 
politely. 

"  I  haven't  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  the  bills  here 
at  the  house,"  said  the  lady  ;  "  they  must  be  car 
ried  to  the  store — that's  the  place  to  attend  to  them." 

"  Well,  mam,"  said  Peter,  "  I  carried  it  to  the 
store,  and  presented  it  to  Mr.  Sharp,  'and  he  told 
me  to  bring  it  to  the  house  and  you  would  pay  it 
here,  and  that  he  couldn't  attend  to  it  at  the  store." 

"  But  he  couldn't  mean  that  I  should  pay  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Sharp,  "  for  he  knows  I  haven't  the  money." 

"  But  he  said  so,"  said  Peter. 

"Well  then  there  must  be  some  mistake  about 
it,"  said  the  lady. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  mam,"  said  Peter,  "  it's  pos 
sible  there  may  be,"  and  he  put  the  bill  in  his  pock 
et,  bowed  and  left  the  house. 

"  It  is  very  queer,"  thought  Peter  to  himself  as 
he  walk  away  a  little  vexed.  "  I  can't  conceive 
how  there  could  be  any  mistake  about  it,  though  it 
is  possible  there  may  be.  There  couldn't  be '"any 
mistake  on  my  part,  for  I'm  sure  I  understood  him. 
May  be  he  thought  she  had  money  at  the  house 
when  she  hadn't.  I  guess  it  will  all  come  out  right 
enough  in  the  end." 

Consoling  himself  with  these  reflections,  Peter 
Punctual  thought  he  would  let  Mr.  Sharp  rest  two 
or  three  days,  and  not  show  any  anxiety  by  calling 
again  in  a  hurry.  He  would  not  be  so  unwise  as 
to  offend  a  good  subscriber,  and  run  the  hazard  of 
losing  him,  by  an  appearance  of  too  much  haste  in 


JACK  DOWNING' s  LETTERS.  75 

presenting  his  bills.  Accordingly,  in  about' three 
days,  he  called  again  at  Mr.  Sharp's  store,  and  ask 
ed  him  in  a  low  voice,  so  that  no  one  should  over 
hear,  if  it  was  convenient  for  him  to  take  that  little 
bill  for  the  magazine  to-day. 

"  But  I  told  you,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  "  to  carry  that 
bill  to  the  house  ;  I  can't  attend  to  it  here." 

"  Yes,  sir,  so  I  understood  you,"  said  Peter,  "  and 
I  carried  it  to  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Sharp  said  she 
couldn't  pay  it  there,  for  she  had  no  money,  and  I 
must  bring  it  to  the  store." 

"  Oh,  strange,"  said  Mr.  Sharp  ;  "  well,  she  didn't 
properly  understand  it  then.  But  I  am  too  much 
engaged  to  attend  to  you  to-day  ;  you  call  again,  or 
call  at  the  house  sometime,  when  I  am  there." 

Upon  this,  he  turned  to  his  desk  and  began  to 
write  with  great  earnestness,  and  Peter  left  the 
store.  The  affair  began  to  grow  a  little  vexatious, 
and  Peter  felt  a  little  nettled.  Still,  he  supposed 
that  people  doing  such  very  large  business  did  find 
it  difficult  to  attend  to  these  little  matters,  and 
doubtless  it  would  be  set  right  when  he  should  call 
again. 

After  waiting  patiently  a  couple  of  weeks,  Peter 
called  again  at  Mr.  Sharp's  store.  When  he  enter 
ed  the  door,  Mr.  Sharp  was  looking  at  a  newspa 
per  ;  but  on  glancing  at  Peter,  he  instantly  dropped 
the  paper,  and  fell  to  writing  at  his  desk  with  great 
rapidity.  Peter  waited  respectfully  a  few  minutes, 
unwilling  to  disturb  the  gentleman  till  he  should  ap 
pear  to  be  a  little  more  at  leisure.  But  after  wait 
ing  some  time  without  seeing  any  prospect  of  Mr. 
Sharp's  completing  the  very  pressing  business  be 
fore  him,  he  approached  him  with  deference,  and 
asked  if  it  would  be  convenient  for  him  to  take  that 
little  bill  for  the  magazine  to-day.  Sharp  turned 
and  looked  at  Peter  very  sternly/ 

"  I  can't  be  bothered  with  these  little  things,"  said 


76  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

he,  "  when  I  am  so  much  engaged.  I  am  exceed 
ingly  busy  to-day — a  good  many  heavy  orders 
waiting — you  must  call  at  the  house,  and  hand  the 
bill  to  me  or  my  wife,  no  matter  which."  And  he 
turned  to  his  desk,  and  continued  to  write,  without 
saying  anything  more. 

Peter  began  to  think  he  had  got  hold  of  a  hard 
customer :  but  he  had  no  idea  of  giving  up  the 
chase.  He  called  at  the  house  several  times  after 
ward,  but  Mr.  Sharp  never  happened  to  be  at  home. 
Once  he  ventured  to  send  the  bill  again  by  the  girl 
to  Mrs.  Sharp,  who  returned  for  answer^  that  she 
had  nothing  to  do  with  such  bills  ;  he  must  carry  it 
to  the  store. 

At  last,  after  repeated  calls,  he  found  Mr.  Sharp 
one  day  at  home.  He  came  to  the  door,  and  Peter 
presented  the  bill.  Mr.  Sharp  expressed  some  sur 
prize  and  regret  that  he  had  come  away  from  the 
store,  and  forgot  to  put  any  money  in  his  pocket. 
Peter  would  have  to  call  some  other  day.  Accord 
ingly,  Peter  Punctual  retired,  with  a  full  determin 
ation  to  call  some  other  day,  and  that  not  very  far 
distant ;  for  it  had  now  been  several  months  that 
he  had  been  beaten  back  and  forth  like  a  shuttle 
cock  between  Mr.  Sharp's  store  and  Mr.  Sharp's 
house,  and  he  was  getting  to  be  rather  tired  of  the 
game. 

Having  ascertained  from  the  girl  at  what  hour 
the  family  dined,  he  called  the  next  day  precisely 
at  the  dinner  hour.  He  rung  at  the  door,  and  when 
the  girl  opened  it,  Peter  stepped  into  the  hall. 

"  Is  Mr.  Sharp  in  ?"  said  Peter. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  girl ;  "  he's  up  stairs.  I'll 
speak  to  him  if  you  want  to  see  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter,  "  and  I'll  take  a  seat  in  the 
parlor  till  he  comes  down." 

As  he  said  this,  Peter  walked  into  the  parlor  and 
seated  himself  upon  an  elegant  sofa.  The  parlor 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  77 

was  richly  furnished  with  Brussels  carpet,  the  best 
of  mahogany  furniture,  a  splendid  piano,  &c.,  &c.  ; 
and  in  the  back  parlor,  to  which  folding  doors  were 
open,  everything  appeared  with  corresponding  ele 
gance.  Actable  was  there  spread,  upon  which  din 
ner  seemed  to  be  nearly  ready.  Presently  the  girl 
returned  from  the  chamber,  and  informed  Peter, 
that  Mr.  Sharp  said  "  it  was  jest  the  dinner  hour 
now,  and  he  would  have  to  call  again." 

"  Please  to  go  and  tell  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  Peter, 
"  that  I  must  see  him,  and  I'll  wait  till  he  comes 
down." 

The  girl  carried  the  message,  and  Mr.  Sharp 
soon  made  his  appearance  in  the  parlor.  A  frown 
passed  over  his  brow  as  he  looked  at  Peter  and 
saw  him  sitting  so  much  at  ease,  and  apparently  so 
much  at  home,  upon  the  sofa.  Peter  rose  and  ask 
ed  him  politely  if  it  was  convenient  for  him  to  take 
that  little  bill  to-day. 

"  No,"  said  Sharp,  "  it  is  not ;  and  if  it  was.  J 
wouldn't  take  it  at  this  hour.  It's  a  very  improper 
time  to  call  upon  such  an  errand  just  as  one  is  go 
ing  to  sit  down  to  dinner.  You  must  call  again  ; 
but  don't  call  at  dinner  time  ;  or  you  may  drop  in 
to  the  store  sometime,  and  perhaps  I  may  find  time 
to  attend  to  it  there." 

"  Well,  now,  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  Peter,  with  rather 
a  determined  look,  "  I  can't  stand  this  kind  of  busi 
ness  any  longer,  that's  a  fact.  I'm  a  poor  man,  and 
1  suppose  you  are  a  rich  one.  I  can't  afford  to  lose 
five  dollars,  and  I'm  too  poor  to  spend  any  more 
time  in  running  after  it  and  trying  to  collect  it.  I 
must  eat,  as  well  as  other  folks,  and  if  you  can't  pay 
me  the  five  dollars  to-day,  to  help  me  pay  my  board 
at  my  regular  boarding-house,  I'll  stay  here  and 
board  it  out  at  your  table." 

"  You  will,  will  you  ?"  said  Sharp,  looking  dag 
gers,  and  stepping  toward  Peter.  "  If  you  give  me 


78  JACK  DOWNING'B  LETTERS. 

a  word  of  your  impudence,  you  may  find  it'll  be  a 
long  time  before  you  collect  your  bill." 

"  It's  been  a  long  time  already,"  said  Peter,  "  and 
I  can't  afford  to  wait  any  longer.  My  mind  is  made 
up ;  if  you  don't  -pay  me  now,  I'm  going  to  stay 
here  and  board  it  out." 

Sharp  colored,  and  looked  at  the  door,  and  then 
at  Peter. 

"  Come,  come,  young  man,"  said  he,  advancing 
with  rather  a  threatening  attitude  toward  Peter, 
"  the  sooner  you  leave  the  house  peaceably  the  bet 
ter." 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  Peter,  fixing  his  black  eyes  up 
on  Sharp,  with  an  intenseness  that  he  could  not  but 
feel,  "  I  am  a  small  man,  and  you  are  considerable 
of  a  large  one  ;  but  my  mind  is  made  up.  I  am 
not  going  to  starve,  when  there's  food  enough  that 
I  have  an  honest  claim  upon." 

So  saying,  he  took  his  seat  again  very  deliber 
ately  upon  the  sofa.  Sharp  paused;  he  looked  ag 
itated  and  angry  ;  and  after  waiting  a  minute,  ap 
parently  undecided  what  to  do,  he  left  the  parlor 
and  went  up  stairs.  In  a  few  minutes,  the  servant 
rung  for  dinner.  Mrs.  Sharp  came  into  the  dining 
room  and  took  her  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
Mr.  Sharp  followed,  and  seated  himself  opposite  his 
lady ;  and  between  them,  and  on  the  right  hand  of 
of  Mrs.  Sharp,  sat  another  lady,  probably  some 
friend  or  relative  of  the  family.  When  they  were 
well  seated,  and  Mr.  Sharp  was  beginning  to  carve, 
Peter  walked  out  of  the  parlor,  drew  another  chair 
up  to  the  table,  and  seated  himself  very  composed 
ly  opposite  the  last  mentioned  lady.  Mr.  Sharp 
colored  a  good  deal,  but  kept  on  carving.  Mrs. 
Sharp  stared  very  wildly,  first  at  Peter  and  then  at 
her  husband. 

"What  in  the  world  does  this  mean?"  said  she, 


JACK  DOWNTNG'S  LETTER?.  79 

"  Mr.  Sharp  I  didn't  know  we  were  to  have  com 
pany  to  dinner." 

"We  are  not,"  said  the  husband.  "  This  young 
man  has  the  impudence  to  take  his  seat  at  the  table 
unasked  and  says  he  is  going  to  board  out  the 
amount  of  the  bill." 

"  Well,  really,  this  is  a  pretty  piece  of  politeness," 
said  Mrs.  Sharp,  looking  very  hard  at  Peter. 

"  Madam,"  said  Peter,  "  hunger  will  drive  a  man 
through  a  stone  wall.  I  must  have  my  board  some 
where." 

No  reply  was  made  to  this,  and  the  dinner  went 
on  without  any  further  reference  to  Peter  at  pre 
sent.  Mr.  Sharp  helped  his  wife,  and  then  the  oth 
er  lady,  and  then  himself,  and  they  all  fell  to  eating. 
Peter 'looked  around  him  for  a  plate  and  knife  and 
fork,  but  there  were  none  on  the  table  but  what 
were  in  use.  Peter,  however,  was  not  to  be  baf 
fled.  He  reached  a  plate  of  bread,  and  tipping  the 
bread  upon  the  table  cloth,  appropriated  the  plate 
for  his  own  convenience.  He  then  took  possession 
of  the  carving  knife  and  fork,  helped  himself  boun 
tifully  to  meat  and  vegetables,  and  commenced  eat 
ing  his  dinner  with  the  greatest  composure  imagin 
able.  These  operations  on  the  part  of  Peter,  had 
the  effect  to  suspend  all  operations  for  the  time  on 
the  part  of  the  rest  of  the  company.  The  ladies 
had  laid  down  their  knives  and  forks,  and  were 
staring  at  Peter  in  wild  astonishment. 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  Mr.  Sharp,"  said  the  lady  of 
the  house,  "  can't  we  pick  up  money  enough  about 
the  house  to  pay  this  man  his  five  dollars  and  send 
him  off?  I  declare  this  is  too  provoking.  I'll  see 
what  I  can  find." 

With  that  she  rose  and  left  the  room.  Mr.  Sharp 
presently  followed  her.  They  returned  again  in  a 
minute,  and  Mr.  Sharp  laid  a  five  dollar  bill  before 
Peter,  and  told  him  he  would  thank  him  to  leave 


80  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

the  house.  Peter  examined  the  bill  to  see  if  it  was 
a  good  one,  and  very  quietly  folded  it  and  put  it  in 
to  his  pocket.  He  then  drew  out  a  little  pocket  ink 
stand  and  a  piece  of  paper,  laid  it  upon  the  table 
before  him,  wrote  a  receipt  for  the  money,  which 
he  handed  to  Mr.  Sharp,  rose  from  the  table,  bow 
ed  to  the  company  and  retired,  thinking  as  he  left 
the  house  that  he  had  had  full  enough  of  the  custom 
of  Solomon  Sharp,  the  importer. 

Peter  Punctual  still  followed  his  vocation  of  cir 
culating  magazines.  He  had  no  intention  of  ever 
darkening  the  door  of  Mr.  Solomon  Sharp's  store 
again,  but  somehow  or  other,  two  or  three  years 
after,  as  he  was  canvasing  for  subscribers  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  city,  he  happened  to  blunder  into 
the  same  store  accidentally,  without  noticing  the 
name  upon  the  door.  Nor  did  he  discover  his  mis 
take,  until  he  had  nearly  crossed  the  store  and  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  Mr.  Sharp  himself,  who  was 
at  his  accustomed  seat  at  the  desk  where  Peter  had 
before  so  often  seen  him.  Peter  thought,  as  he 
had  got  fairly  into  the  store,  he  would  not  back  out ; 
so  he  stepped  up  to  Mr.  Sharp  without  a  look  of  re 
cognition,  and  asked  if  he  would  not  like  to  sub 
scribe  for  some  magazines.  Mr.  Sharp,  who  either 
did  not  recognize  Peter,  or  chose  not  to  appear  to 
recognize  him,  took  the  magazines  and  looked  at 
them,  and  found  a  couple  he  said  he  would  like  to 
take,  and  inquired  the  terms.  They  were  each 
three  dollars  a  year  in  advance. 

"  But  I  don't  pay  in  advance  for  anything,"  said 
Sharp.  "  If  you  have"  a  mind  to  leave  them  at  my 
house,  to  be  paid  for  at  the  end  of  the  year,  you 
may  put  me  down  for  these  two." 

"  No,"  said  Peter,  "  I  don't  wish  to  take  any  sub 
scribers,  but  those  who  pay  in  advance." 

Saying  this,  he  took  up  his  specimens,  and  was 


JACK  DOWNIXG'S  LETTERS.  81 

going  out  of  the  door,  when  Mr.  Sharp  called  him 
back. 

"  Here  young  man,  you  may  leave  those  two  at 
any  rate,"  said  he,  "  and  here's  your  advance," 
handing  him  the  six  dollars. 

4°  Where  will  you  have  them  left  ?"  said  Peter. 

"  At  my  house,  up  town,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  de 
scribing  the  street  and  number. 

The  business  being  completed,  Peter  retired, 
much  astonished  at  his  good  luck.  He  again  be 
came  a  monthly  visitor  at  Mr.  Sharp's  door,  where 
he  regularly  delivered  to  the  servant  girl  the  two 
magazines.  Two  or  three  months  after  this,  when 
he  called  one  day  on  his  usual  round,  the  girl  told 
him  that  Mr.  Sharp  wanted  to  see  him,  and  desired 
he  would  call  at  the.  store.  Peter  felt  not  a  little 
curious  to  know  what  Mr.  Sharp  might  have  to 
say  to  him  ;  so  in  the  course  of  the  same  day  he 
called  at  Mr.  Sharp's  store. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Mr.  Sharp  as  Peter  enter 
ed  ;  "  come,  take  a  chair,  and  sit  down  here." 

Peter,  with  a  "good  morning,  sir,"  did  as  he  was 
desired. 

"  Ain't  you  the  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  with 
a  comical  kind  of  a  look,  '*  who  set  out  to  board 
out  a  subscription  to  the  New  Englnnd  Magazine, 
at  my  house  two  or  three  years  ago." 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter,  "  I  believe  I'm  the  same  per 
son  who  once  had  the  honor  of  taking  board  at  your 
house." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  "  I  want  to  give  you  a 
job." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  said  Peter. 

"  Here,  I  want  you  to  collect  these  bills  for  me," 
said  Mr.  Sharp,  taking  a  bundle  from  his  desk,  "for 
I'll  be  hanged  if /can;  I've  tried  till  I'm  tired." 

Whereupon  he  opened  the   bundle  and  assorted 
6 


82  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

out  the  bills,  and  made  a  schedule  of  them,  amount 
ing,  in  the  aggregate,  to  about  a  thousand  dollars. 

•*  There,"  said  he,  "  I  will  give  upon  that  list  ten 
per  cent  commission  on  all  you  collect ;  and  on 
that  list  I'll  give  you  twenty-five  per  cent  on  all 
you  collect.  What  say  you  1  will  you  undertake 
the  job  r 

"  Well,  I'll  try,"  said  Peter,  "  and  see  what  I  can 
do  with  them.  How  soon  must  I  return  them  ?" 

"  Take  your  own  time  for  it,"  said  Mr.  Sharp  ; 
"  I've  seen  enough  of  you  to  know  pretty  well  what 
you  are." 

Peter  accordingly  took  the  bills  and  entered  on 
his  new  task,  following  it  up  with  diligence  and  per 
severance.  In  a  few  weeks  he  called  again  at 
Sharp's  store. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  "  have  you  made  out 
to  collect  anything  on  those  bills  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter. 

"  There  were  some  of  the  ten  per  cent  list  that  I 
thought  it  probable  you  might  collect,"  said  Mr. 
Sharp.  "  How  many  have  you  collected  ?" 

"  All  of  them,"  said  Peter. 

"  All  of  them  !"  said  Sharp ;  "  well,  fact,  that's 
much  more  than  I  expected.  The  twenty-five  per 
cent  list  was  all  dead  dogs,  wasn't  it  ?  You  got 
nothing  on  them,  I  suppose,  did  you?" 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  said  Peter. 

"  Did  you  though  ?     How  much  ?"  said  Sharp. 

"  I  got  them  all,"  said  Peter. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  a  joke,"  said  Sharp. 

"  No,  it  isn't  a  joke,"  said  Peter.  "  I've  collected 
every  dollar  of  them,  and  here's  the  money,"  taking 
out  his  pocket-book,  and  counting  out  the  bills. 

Mr.  Sharp  received  the  money  with  the  most 
perfect  astonishment.  He  had  not  expected  one 
half  of  the  amount  would  ever  be  collected. 

He  counted  out  the  commissions  on  the  ten  per 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  83 

cent  list,  and  then  the  commissions  on  the  twenty- 
five  per  cent  list,  and  handed  the  sum  over  to  Pe 
ter.  And  then  he  counted  out  fifty  dollars  more, 
and  asked  Peter  to  accept  that  as  a  present ;  "  part 
ly,"  said  he,  "  because  you  have  accomplished  this 
task  so  very  far  beyond  my  expectations,  and  part 
ly  because  my  acquaintance  with  you  has  taught 
me  one  of  the  best  lessons  of  my  life.  It  has  taught 
me  the  value  of  perseverance  and  punctuality.  1 
have  reflected  upon  it  much  ever  since  you  under 
took  to  board  out  the  bill  for  the  magazine  at  my 
house." 

"  Why  yes,"  said  Peter,  "  I  think  perseverance 
and  punctuality  are  great  helps  in  the  way  of  busi 
ness." 

"  If  every  person  in  the  community,"  said  Mr. 
Sharp,  "  would  make  it  a  point  to  pay  all  of  his  bills 
promptly,  the  moment  they  become  due,  what  a 
vast  improvement  it  would  make  in  the  condition 
of  society  all  round.  That  would  put  people  in  a 
condition,  at  all  times,  to  be  able  to  pay  their  bills 
promptly." 

We  might  add,  that  Peter  Punctual  afterward 
opened  a  store  in  the  city,  in  a  branch  of  business 
which  brought  Mr.  Sharp  to  be  a  customer  to  him, 
and  he  has  been  one  of  his  best  customers  ever 
since,  paying  all  of  his  bills  promptly,  and  whenever 
Peter  requires  it,  even  paying  in  advance. 


82  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

out  the  bills,  and  made  a  schedule  of  them,  amount 
ing,  in  the  aggregate,  to  about  a  thousand  dollars. 

*'  There,"  said  he,  "  I  will  give  upon  that  list  ten 
per  cent  commission  on  all  you  collect ;  and  on 
that  list  I'll  give  you  twenty-five  per  cent  on  all 
you  collect.  What  say  you  1  will  you  undertake 
the  job  ?" 

"  Well,  I'll  try,"  said  Peter,  "  and  see  what  I  can 
do  with  them.  How  soon  must  I  return  them  ?" 

"  Take  your  own  time  for  it,"  said  Mr.  Sharp  ; 
"  I've  seen  enough  of  you  to  know  pretty  well  what 
you  are." 

Peter  accordingly  took  the  bills  and  entered  on 
his  new  task,  following  it  up  with  diligence  and  per 
severance.  In  a  few  weeks  he  called  again  at 
Sharp's  store. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Sharp,  "  have  you  made  out 
to  collect  anything  on  those  bills  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter. 

"  There  were  some  of  the  ten  per  cent  list  that  I 
thought  it  probable  you  might  collect,"  said  Mr. 
Sharp.  "  How  many  have  you  collected  ?" 

"  All  of  them,"  said  Peter. 

"  All  of  them  !"  said  Sharp ;  "  well,  fact,  that's 
much  more  than  I  expected.  The  twenty-five  per 
cent  list  was  all  dead  dogs,  wasn't  it  ?  You  got 
nothing  on  them,  I  suppose,  did  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  said  Peter. 

"  Did  you  though  ?     How  much  ?"  said  Sharp. 

"  I  got  them  all,"  said  Peter. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  a  joke,"  said  Sharp. 

"  No,  it  isn't  a  joke,"  said  Peter.  "  I've  collected 
every  dollar  of  them,  and  here's  the  money,"  taking 
out  his  pocket-book,  and  counting  out  the  bills. 

Mr.  Sharp  received  the  money  with  the  most 
perfect  astonishment.  He  had  not  expected  one 
half  of  the  amount  would  ever  be  collected. 

He  counted  out  the  commissions  on  the  ten  per 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  83 

cent  list,  and  then  the  commissions  on  the  twenty- 
five  per  cent  list,  and  handed  the  sum  over  to  Pe 
ter.  And  then  he  counted  out  fifty  dollars  more, 
and  asked  Peter  to  accept  that  as  a  present ;  '*  part 
ly,"  said  he,  "  because  you  have  accomplished  this 
task  so  very  far  beyond  my  expectations,  and  part 
ly  because  my  acquaintance  with  you  has  taught 
me  one  of  the  best  lessons  of  my  life.  It  has  taught 
me  the  value  of  perseverance  and  punctuality.  1 
have  reflected  upon  it  much  ever  since  you  under 
took  to  board  out  the  bill  for  the  magazine  at  my 
house." 

"  Why  yes,"  said  Peter,  "  I  think  perseverance 
and  punctuality  are  great  helps  in  the  way  of  busi 
ness." 

"  If  every  person  in  the  community,"  said  Mr. 
Sharp,  "  would  make  it  a  point  to  pay  all  of  his  bills 
promptly,  the  moment  they  become  due,  what  a 
vast  improvement  it  would  make  in  the  condition 
of  society  alJ  round.  That  would  put  people  in  a 
condition,  at  all  times,  to  be  able  to  pay  their  bills 
promptly." 

We  might  add,  that  Peter  Punctual  afterward 
opened  a  store  in  the  city,  in  a  branch  of  business 
which  brought  Mr.  Sharp  to  be  a  customer  to  him, 
and  he  has  been  one  of  his  best  customers  ever 
since,  paying  all  of  his  bills  promptly,  and  whenever 
Peter  requires  it,  even  paying  in  advance. 


84  JACK  DOWXTXG'B  LETTERS. 


POLLY  GRAY  AND  THE  DOCTORS. 

BY    SEBA    SMITH. 

IT  was  a  dark,  and  rainy  night  in  June,  when 
Deacon  Gray,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
drove  his  horse  and  wagon  up  to  the  door,  on  his  re 
turn  from  market. 

"  Oh  dear,  Mr.  Gray,"  exclaimed  his  wife,  as  she 
met  him  at  the  door,  "  I'm  dreadful  glad  you've 
come  ;  Polly's  so  sick,  I'm  afraid  she  won't  live  till 
mornin',  if  something  ain't  done  for  her." 

"  Polly  is  always  ailing,"  said  the  deacon  delib 
erately  ;  "  I  guess  it's  only  some  of  her  old  aches 
and  pains.  Just  take  this  box  of  sugar  in ;  it  has 
been  raining  on  it  this  hour." 

"  Well,  do  come  right  in,  Mr.  Gray,  for  you  don't 
know  what  a  desput  case  she  is  in ;  I  daren't  leave 
her  a  minute." 

"  You  are  always  scared  half  to  death,"  said  the 
deacon,  "  if  anything  ails  Polly  ;  but  you  know  she 
always  gets  over  it  again.  Here's  coffee  and  tea 
and  some  other  notions  rolled  up  in  this  bag,"  hand 
ing  her  another  bundle  to  carry  into  the  house. 

"  Well,  but  Mr.  Gray,  don't  pray  stop  for  bundles 
nor  nothin'  else.  You  must  go  right  over  after 
Doctor  Longley,  and  get  him  here  as  quick  as  you 
can." 

"Oh,  if  it's  only  Doctor  Longley  she  wants,"  said 
the  deacon  carelessly,  "  I  guess  she  aint  so  danger 
ous  after  all." 

"  Now,  Mr.  Gray,  jest  because  Doctor  Longley  is 
a  young  man  and  about  Polly's  age,  that  you  should 
make  such  an  unfeelin'  expression  as  that,  I  think  is 
too  bad." 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  85 

The  deacon  turned  away  without  making  a  re 
ply,  and  began  to  move  the  harness  from  the  horse. 

"  Mr.  Gray,  ain't  you  going  alter  the  doctor  ?" 
said  Mrs.  Gray,  with  increasing  impatience. 

"  I'm  going  to  turn  the  horse  into  the  pasture, 
and  then  I'll  come  in  and  see  about  it,"  said  the 
deacon. 

A  loud  groan  from  Polly  drew  Mrs.  Gray  hastily 
into  the  house.  The  deacon  led  his  horse  a  quar 
ter  of  a  mile  to  the  pasture  ;  let  down  the  bars  and 
turned  him  in  ;  put  all  the  bars  carefully  up  ;  hunt 
ed  round  and  found  a  stick  to  drive  in  as  a  wedge 
to  fasten  the  top  bar  :  went  round  the  barn  to  see 
that  the  doors  were  all  closed  ;  got  an  armful  of 
dry  straw  and  threw  it  into  the  pig-pen  ;  called  the 
dog  from  his  kennel,  patted  him  on  his  head,  and 
went  into  the  house. 

"  I'm  afraid  she's  dying,"  said  Mrs.  Gray,  as  the 
deacon  entered. 

"  You  are  always  scared  half  out  of  your  wits," 
said  the  deacon,  "  if  there's  anything  the  matter. 
I'll  come  in  as  soon  as  I've  took  off  my  coat  and 
boots  and  put  on  some  dry  ones." 

Mrs.  Gray  ran  back  to  attend  upon  Polly  ;  but 
before  the  deacon  had  got  ready  to  enter  the  room, 
Mrs.  Gray  screamed  again  with  the  whole  strength 
of  her  lungs, 

'•  Mr.  Gray,  Mr.  Gray, do  make  haste,  she's  in  a  fit." 

This  was  the  first  sound  that  had  given  the  dea 
con  any  uneasiness  about  the  matter.  He  had  been 
accustomed  for  years  to  hear  his  wife  "  worry'' 
about  Polly,  and  had  heard  her  predict  her  death  so 
often  from  very  slight  illness,  that  he  had  come  to 
regard  such  scenes  and  such  predictions  with  as 
little  attention  as  he  did  the  rain  that  pattered 
against  the  window.  But  the  word  fit  was  some 
thing  he  had  never  heard  applied  in  these  cases 
before,  and  the  sound  of  it  gave  him  a  strange  feel- 


86  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

ing  of  apprehension.  He  had  just  thrown  off  his 
boots  and  put  his  feet  into  dry  shoes,  and  held  a 
dry  coat  in  his  hand,  when  this  last  appeal  came  to 
his  ear  and  caused  him  actually  to  hasten  into  the 
room. 

"  Polly,  what's  the  matter  now  ?"  said  the  dea 
con,  beginning  to  be  somewhat  agitated,  as  he  ap 
proached  the  bedside. 

Polly  was  in  violent  spasms,  and  heeded  not  the 
inquiry.  The  deacon  took  hold  of  her  arm,  and 
repeated  the  question  more  earnestly  and  in  a  ten 
der  tone. 

"  You  may  as  well  speak  to  the  dead,"  said  Mrs. 
Gray  ;  "  she's  past  hearing  or  speaking." 

The  deacon's  eyes  looked  wildj  and  his  face 
grew  very  long. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  how  sick  she  was 
when  I  first  got  home  ?"  said  the  deacon,  with  a 
look  of  rebuke. 

"  I  did  tell  you  when  you  first  come,"  said  Mrs. 
Gray,  sharply,  "  and  you  didn't  take  no  notice  on 
it." 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  anything  about  how  sick  she 
was,"  said  the  deacon  ;  "  you  only  spoke  jest  as  you 
used  to,  when  she  wasn't  hardly  sick  at  all." 

The  subject  here  seemed  to  subside  by  mutual 
consent,  and  both  stood  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon 
Polly,  who  was  apparently  struggling  in  the  fierce 
agonies  of  death.  In  a  few  minutes  however  she 
came  out  of  the  spasm,  breathed  comparatively 
easy,  and  lay  perfectly  quiet.  The  deacon  spoke 
to  her  again.  She  looked  up  with  a  wild  delirious 
look,  but  made  no  answer. 

"I'll  go  for  the  doctor,"  said  the  deacon,  "it 
may  be  he  can  do  something  for  her,  though  she 
looks  to  me  as  though  it  was  a  gone  goose  with 
her." 

Saying  this,  he  put  on  his  hat  and  coat  and  start- 


JACK   DOWNIttG'S   LETTEES.  87 

ed.  Having  half  a  mile  to  go,  and  finding  the  doctor 
in  bed,  it  was  half  an  hour  before  he  returned  with 
Doctor  Longley  in  his  company.  In  the  meantime 
Mrs.  Gray  had  called  in  old  Mrs.  Livermore  who 
lived  next  door,  and  they  had  lifted  Polly  up 
and  put  a  clean  pillow  upon  the  bed,  and  a  clean 
cap  on  her  head,  and  had  been  round  and  "  slicked 
up "  the  room  a  little,  for  Mrs.  Livermore  said, 
"  Doctor  Longley  was  such  a  nice  man  she  always 
loved  to  see  things  look  tidy  where  he  was  coming 
to." 

The  deacon  came  in  and  hung  his  hat  up  behind 
the  door,  and  Doctor  Longley  followed  with  his  hat 
in  his  hand  and  a  small  pair  of  saddle-bags  on  his 
arm.  Mrs.  Gray  stood  at  one  side  of  the  bed,  and 
Mrs.  Livermore  at  the  other,  and  the  doctor  laid 
his  hat  and  saddle-bags  on  the  table  that  stood  by 
the  window,  and  stepped  immediately  to  the  bed 
side. 

•'Miss  Gray,  are  you  sick?"  said  the  doctor, 
taking  the  hand  of  the  patient. 

No  answer  or  look  from  the  patient  gave  any 
indication  that  she  heard  the  question. 

"  How  long  has  she  been  ill  ?"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Ever  since  mornin',"  said  Mrs.  Gray.  "  She 
got  up  with  a  head -ache,  jest  after  her  father  went 
away  to  market,  and  smart  pains  inside,  and  she's 
been  growing  worse  all  day." 

"  And  what  have  you  given  her  ?    said  the  doctor. 

"  Nothing,  but  arb-drink,"  said  Mrs.  Gray  ; 
"  whenever  she  felt  worse,  I  made  her  take  a  good 
deal  of  arb-drink,  because  that,  you  know,  is  always 
good,  doctor.  And  besides,  when  it  can't  do  no 
good,  it  would  do  no  hurt." 

^  But  what  sort  of  drinks  have  you  given  her?' 
said  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  I  give  her  most  all  sorts,  for  we  had  a 
plenty  of  'em  in  the  house,"  said  Mrs.  Gray. 


88  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

give  her  sage,  and  peppermint,  and  sparemint,  and 
cammermile,  and  pennyryal,  and  motherwort,  and 
balm  ;  you  know,  balm  is  very  coolin,'  doctor,  and 
sometimes  she'd  be  very  hot,  and  then  I'd  make  her 
drink  a  good  dose  of  balm." 

"  Give  me  a  candle,"  said  the  doctor. 

The  deacon  brought  a  candle  and  held  it  over 
the  patient's  head.  The  doctor  opened  her  mouth 
and  examined  it  carefully  for  the  space  of  a  minute. 
He  felt  her  pulse  another  minute,  and  looked  again 
into  her  mouth. 

"  Low  pulse,  but  heavy  and  labored  respiration," 
said  the  doctor. 

"  What  do  you  think  ails  her  ?"  said  Mrs.  Gray. , 

The  doctor  shook  his  head. 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  give  her  anything  to 
help  her?"  said  the  deacon  anxiously. 

The  doctor  looked  very  grave,  and  fixed  his  eyes 
thoughtfully  on  the  patient  for  a  minute,  but  made 
no  reply  to  the  deacon's  question. 

"  Why  didn't  you  send  for  me  sooner  ?"  at  last 
said  the  doctor,  turning  to  Mrs.  Gray. 

"  Because  I  thought  my  arb-drink  would  help  her, 
and  so  I  kept  trying  it  all  day  till  it  got  to  be  dark, 
and  then  she  got  be  so  bad  I  didn't  dare  to  leave 
her  till  Mr.  Gray  got  home." 

**  It's  a  great  pity,"  said  the  doctor,  turning  from 
the  bed  to  the  table  and  opening  his  saddle-bags. 
"  Thousands  and  thousands  of  lives  are  lost  only  by 
delaying  to  send  for  medical  advice  till  it  is  too 
late  ;  thousands  that  might  have  been  saved  as  well 
as  not,  if  only  taken  in  season." 

"  But  doctor,  you  don't  think  it's  too  late  for  Pol 
ly,  do  you  ?"  said  Mrs.  Gray. 

"  I  think  her  case,  to  say  the  least,  is  extremely 
doubtful,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Her  appearance  is 
very  remarkable.  Whatever  her  disease  is,  it  has 
made  such  progress,  and  life  is  so  nearly  extinct, 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  89 

that  it  is  impossible  to  tell  what  were  the  original 
symptoms,  and  consequently  what  applications  are 
best  to  be  made*' 

"  Well,  now,  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Livermore,  "  ex 
cuse  me  for  speakin  ?  but  I'm  a  good  deal  older 
than  you  are,  and  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  sick 
ness  in  my  day,  and  I've  been  in  here  with  Polly  a 
number  of  times  to-day,  and  sometimes  this  even 
ing,  and  I'm  satisfied,  doctor,  there's  something  the 
matter  of  her  insides." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  very 
grave. 

This  new  hint  from  Mrs.  Livermore  seemed  to 
give  Mrs.  Gray  new  hope,  and  she  appealed  again 
to  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  now,  doctor,"  said  she,  "  don't  you  think 
Mrs.  Livermore  has  the  right  of  it  T 

"  Most  unquestionably,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Well,  then,  doctor,  if  you  should  give  her  some 
thing  that's  pretty  powerful  to  operate  inwardly, 
don't  you  think  it  might  help  her  ?" 

"  It'might,  and  it  might  not,"  said  the  doctor  ; 
"  the  powers  of  life  are  so  nearly  exhausted,  I  must 
toll  you  frankly  I  have  very  little  hope  of  being 
able" to  rally  them.  There  is  not  life  enough  left  to 
indicate  the  disease  or  show  the  remedies  that  are 
wanted.  Applications  now  must  be  made  entirely 
in  the  dark,  and  leave  the  effect  to  chance." 

At  this,  Mrs.  Livermore  took  the  candle  and  was 
proceeding  to  remove  it  from  the  room,  when  the 
doctor,  perceiving  her  mistake,  called  her  back. 
He  did  not  mean  to  administer  the  medicine  literal 
ly  in  a  dark  room,  but  simply  in  a  state  of  darkness 
and  ignorance  as  to  the  nature  of  the  disease.  It 
was  a  very  strange  case  ;  it  was  certain  life  oould 
hold  out  but  a  short  time  longer ;  he  felt  bound  to 
do  something,  and  therefore  proceeded  to  prepare 
such  applications  and  remedies  as  his  best  jiulg- 


90  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

ment  dictated.  These  were  administered  without 
confidence,  and  their  effect  awaited  with  painful  so 
licitude.  They  either  produced  no  perceptible  ef 
fect  at  all,  or  very  different  from  the  ordinary  re 
sults  of  such  applications. 

"  I  should  like,"  said  Doctor  Longley  to  the  dea 
con,  "  to  have  you  call  in  Doctor  Stubbs  ;  this  is  a 
very  extraordinary  case,  and  I  should  prefer  that 
some  other  medical  practitioner  might  be  present." 
The  deacon  accordingly  hastened  to  call  Doc 
tor  Stubbs,  a  young  man  who  had  come  into  the 
place  a  short  time  before,  with  a  high  reputation, 
but  not  a  favorite  with  the  deacon  and  his  family, 
on  account  of  his  being  rather  fresh  from  college, 
and  full  of  modern  innovations. 

After  Doctor  Stubbs  had  examined  the  patient, 
arid  made  various  inquiries  of  the  family,  he  and 
Doctor  Longley  held  a  brief  consultation.  Their 
united  wisdom,  however,  was  not  sufficient  to  throw 
any  light  upon  the  case  or  to  afford  any  relief.  . 

"  Have  you  thought  of  poison  ?"  said  Doctor 
Longley. 

"  Yes,"  said  Doctor  Stubbs,  "  but  there  are  cer 
tain  indications  in  the  case,  which  forbid  that  alto 
gether.  Indeed,  I  can  form  no  satisfactory  opinion 
about  it ;  it  is  the  most  anomalous  case  I  ever  knew." 
Before  their  conference  was  brought  to  a  close, 
the  deacon  called  them,  saying  he  believed  Polly 
was  a  going.  They  came  into  the  room  and  has 
tened  to  the  bed-side. 

"  Yes,"  said  Doctor  Stubbs,  looking  at  the  pa 
tient,  "  those  are  dying  struggles  ;  in  a  short  time 
all  her  troubles  in  this  life  will  be  over." 

The  patient  sunk  gradually  and  quietly  away, 
and  in  the  course  of  two  hours  after  the  arrival  of 
Doctor  Stubbs,  all  signs  of  life  were  gone. 

"  The  Lord's  will  be  done."  said  the  deacon,  as 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  91 

he  stood  by  the  bed  and  saw  her  chest  heave  for 
the  last  time. 

Mrs.  Gray  sat  in  the  corner  of  the  room  with  her 
apron  to  her  face  weeping  aloud.  Old  Mrs.  Liver- 
more  and  two  other  females,  who  had  been  called 
in  during  the  night,  were  already  busily  employed 
in  preparing  for  laying  out  the  corpse. 

It  was  about  daybreak  when  the  two  doctors  left 
the  house  and  started  for  home. 

"  Very  singular  case,"  said  Doctor  Stubbs,  who 
spoke  with  more  ease  and  freedom,  now  that  they 
were  out  of  the  way  of  the  afflicted  family.  "  We 
ought  not  to  give  it  up  so,  doctor  ;  we  ought  to  fol 
low  this  case  up  till  we  ascertain  what  was  the 
cause  of  her  death.  What  say  to  a  post  mortem 
examination  ?" 

"  I  always  dislike  them,"  said  Doctor  Longley; 
"they  are  ugly  uncomfortable  jobs  ;  and  besides,  I 
doubt  whether  the  deacon's  folks  would  consent  to 
it." 

"  It  is  important  for  us,  as  well  as  for  the  cause  of 
the  science,"  said  Doctor  Stubbs,  "  that  something 
should  be  done  about  it.  We  are  both  young,  and 
it  may  have  an  injurious  bearing  upon  our  reputa-^ 
tion  if  we  are  not  able  to  give  any  explanation  of 
the  case.  I  consider  my  reputation  at  stake  as  well 
as  yours,  as  I  was  called  in  for  consultation.  There 
will  doubtless  be  an  hundred  rumors  afloat,  and  the 
older  physicians,  who  look  upon  us,  you  know,  with 
rather  an  evil  eye,  will  be  pretty  sure  to  lay  hold  of 
the  matter  and  turn  it  greatly  to  our  disadvantage, 
if  we  cannot  show  facts  for  our  vindication.  The 
deacon's  folks  must  consent,  and  you  had  better  go 
down  after  breakfast  and  have  a  talk  with  the  dea 
con  about  it." 

Doctor  Longley  felt  the  force  of  the  reasoning 
and  consented  to  go.  Accordingly,  after  breakfast, 
he  returned  to  Deacon  Gray's,  and  kindly  offered 


92  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

his  services,  if  there  was  any  assistance  he  could 
render  in  making  preparations  for  the  funeral.  The 
deacon  felt  much  obliged  to  him,  but  didn't  know 
as  there  was  anything  for  which  they  particularly 
needed  his  assistance.  The  doctor  then  broached 
the  subject  of  the  very  sudden  and  singular  death  of 
Polly,  and  how  important  it  was  for  the  living  that 
the  causes  of  such  a  sudden  death  should,  if  possi 
ble,  be  ascertained,  and  delicately  hinted  that  the 
only  means  of  obtaining  this  information,  so  desira 
ble  for  the  benefit  of  the  science  and  so  valuable  for 
all  living,  was  by  opening  and  examining  the  body 
after  death. 

At  this  the  deacon  looked  up  at  him  with  such  an 
awful  expression  of  holy  horror,  that  the  doctor 
saw  at  once  it  would  be  altogether  useless  to  pur 
sue  the  subject  further.  Accordingly,  after  advis 
ing,  on  account  of  the  warm  weather  and  the  pa 
tient  dying  suddenly  and  in  full  blood,  not  to  post 
pone  the  funeral  later  than  that  afternoon,  the  doc 
tor  took  his  leave. 

"  Well,  what  is  the  result  ?"  said  Doctor  Stubbs, 
as  Doctor  Longley  entered  his  door. 

"  Oh,  as  I  expected,"  said  Doctor  Longley.  "  The 
moment  I  hinted  at  the  subject  to  the  deacon,  I  saw 
by  his  looks,  if  it  were  to  save  his  own  life  and  the 
lives  of  all  his  friends,  he  never  would  consent  to 
it." 

"  Well,  'tis  astonishing,"  said  Doctor  Stubbs, 
f  that  people  who  have  common  sense  should  have 
so  little  sense  on  a  subject  of  this  kind.  I  won't  be 
baffled  so,  Doctor  Longley ;  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll 
do.  What  time  is  she  to  be  buried  ?" 

"  This  afternoon,"  said  Doctor  Longley. 

"  In  the  burying  ground  by  the  old  meeting-house 
up  the  road.  I  suppose,"  said  Doctor  Stubbs. 

"  Yes,  undoubtedly,"  replied  Dr.  Longley. 

"  W'^J,  I'll  have  that  corpse  taken  up  this  night, 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  93 

and  you  may  depend  upon  it,"  said  Doctor  Stubbs. 
"  I'll  not  only  ascertain  the  cause  of  her  death,  but 
I  want  a  subject  for  dissection,  and  she  having  died 
so  suddenly  will  make  an  excellent  one." 

Doctor  Longley  shuddered  a  little  at  the  bold  pro 
ject  of  Doctor  Stubbs.  "  You  know,  doctor,  there 
is  a  law  against  it,"  said  he,  "  and  besides,  the  bury 
ing  ground  is  in  such  a  lonely  place  and  surround- 
ed°by  woods,  I  don't  believe  you  can  find  anybody 
with  nerve  enough  to  go  there  and  take  up  a  newly 
buried  corpse  in  the  night." 

"  Let  me  alone  for  that,"  said  Doctor  Stubbs. 
"  I  know  a  chap  that  would  do  it  every  night  in  the 
week  if  I  wanted  him  to  ;  a  friend  of  mine  down 
there  in  the  college,  in  the  senior  class.  He  has 
nerve  enough  to  go  anywhere,  and  is  up  to  a  job  of 
this  kind  at  any  time.  "  The  business  is  all  arrang 
ed,  doctor,  and  I  shall  go  through  with  it.  Joe 
Palmer  is  the  man  for  it,  and  Rufus  Barries  will  go 
with  him.  I'd  go  myself,  but  it  would  be  more  pru 
dent  for  me  to  be  at  home,  for  in  case  of  accident, 
and  the  thing  should  be  discovered,  suspicion  would 
be  likely  to  fall  on  me,  and  it  would  be  important 
for  me  to  be  able  to  prove  where  I  was.  Rufus 
must  go  to  the  funeral  ana  see  whereabouts  the 
corpse  is  buried,  so  he  can  find  the  place  in  a  dark 
night,  and  I  shall  have  to  go  down  to  the  college 
the  first  of  the  evening  after  Joe  myself,  and  get 
him  started,  and  then  come  right  home,  and  stay  at 
home,  so  that  I  can  prove  an  alibi  in  case  of  any 
questions.  Don't  I  understand  it.  doctor  ?" 

"  Yes,  full  well  enough,"  said  Doctor  Longley, 
"  but  I  had  rather  you  would  be  in  the  scrape  than 
I  should." 

That  evening,  half  an  hour  after  dark,  there  was 
a  light  rap  at  Joe  Palmer's  door  in  the  third  story 
of  one  of  the  college  buildings.  The  door  was 
partly  open,  and  Joe  said  "  come  in."  No  one  en- 


94 

tered,  but  in  a  few  moments  the  rap  was  heard 
again.  "  Come  in,"  said  Joe.  Still  no  one  enter 
ed.  Presently  a,  figure,  concealed  under  a  cloak 
and  with  muffled  face,  appeared  partly  before  the 
door,  and  said  something  in  a  low  voice.  Joe  look 
ed  wild  and  agitated.  Some  college  scrape,  he 
thought,  but  what  was  the  nature  of  it  he  could  not 
divine.  The  figure  looked  mysterious.  Presently 
the  voice  was  heard  again,  and  understood  to  utter 
the  word  Palmer.  Joe  was  still  more  agitated,  and 
looked  at  his  chum  most  inquiringly.  His  chum 
stepped  to  the  door  and  asked  what  was  wanting. 
The  figure  drew  back  into  the  darkness  of  the  hall, 
and  answered  in  a  faint  voice,  that  he  wanted  Pal 
mer.  At  last  Palmer  screwed  his  resolution  up  to 
the  sticking  point  and  ventured  as  far  as  the  door, 
while  his  chum  stepped  back  into  the  room.  The 
figure  again  came  forward  and  whispered  to  Pal 
mer  to  come  out,  for  he  wanted  to  speak  with  him. 

"  But  who  are  you  ?"  said  Palmer. 

The  figure  partially  uncovered  his  face,  and 
whispered  "  Doctor  Stubbs." 

Palmer  at  once  recognized  him,  and  stepped  back 
as  bold  as  a  lion,  and  took  his  hat  and  went  out. 
In  a  few  minutes  he  returned  and  told  his  chum, 
with  rather  a  mysterious  air,  that  he  was  going  out 
with  a  friend  to  be  gone  two  or  three  hours,  that 
he  need  not  feel  uneasy  about  him,  and  might  leave 
the  door  unfastened  for  him  till  he  returned. 

Doctor  Stubbs,  having  given  Joe  and  Rufus  full 
directions  how  to  proceed,  telling  them  to  get  a 
large  wide  chaise,  so  that  they  could  manage  to 
carry  the  corpse  conveniently,  and  informing  them 
where  they  could  find  spades  and  shovels  deposited 
by  the  side  of  the  road  for  the  purpose,  left  them 
and  hastened  home. 

"  Well  now,  Rufe,"  said  Joe,  "  we'll  just  go  over 
to  Jake  Rider's  and  get  one  of  his  horses  and  chaise. 


JACK  DOWNING' s  LETTERS.  05 

But  we  needn't  be  in  a  hurry,  for  we  don't  want 
to  get  there  much  before  midnight ;  and  we'll  go 
into  the  store  here  and  get  a  drink  of  brandy  to  be 
gin  with,  for  this  kind  of  business  needs  a  little  stim 
ulus." 

Having  braced  their  nerves  with  a  drink  of  bran 
dy,  they  proceeded  to  Jacob  Rider's. 

"Jake,  give  us  a  horse  and  chaise  to  take  a  ride 
three  or  four  hours,"  said  Joe.  "  ^ou  needn't  mind 
setting  up  for  us  ;  we'll  put  the  horse  up  when  we 
come  back,  and  take  good  care  of  him  ;  we  know 
where  to  put  him.  We  don't  want  a  nag  ;  an  old 
steady  horse  that  will  give  us  an  easy  pleasant 
ride." 

"  Old  Tom  is  jest  the  horse  you  want,"  said  Ja 
cob,  "  and  there's  a  good  easy  going  chaise." 

"  That  chaise  isn't  wide  enough,"  said  Joe  ;  "give 
us  the  widest  one  you've  got." 

"  But  that's  plenty  wide  enough  for  two  to  ride 
m,"  said  Jacob  ;  "  I  don't  see  what  you  want  a  wi 
der  chaise  than  that  for." 

"  Oh,  I  like  to  have  plenty  of  elbow  room,"  said 
Joe. 

"  Maybe  you  are  going  to  have  a  lady  to  ride 
with  you,"  said  Jacob. 

Joe  laughed,  and  whispered  to  Rufus  that  Jake 
had  hit  nearer  the  mark  than  he  was  aware  of. 

Jacob  selected  another  chaise.  "  There  is  one," 
said  he  "  wide  enough  for  three  to  ride  in,  and  even 
four  upon  a  pinch." 

"  That'll  do,"  said  Joe  ;  "  now  put  in  old  Tom." 
The  horse  was  soon  harnessed,  and  Joe  and  Ru 
fus  jumped  into  the  chaise  and  drove  off." 

"  Confound  these  college  chaps,"  said  Jacob  to 
himself  as  they  drove  out  of  the  yard  ;  "  they  are 
always  a  sky-larkin'  somewhere  or  other.  There's 
one  thing  in  it  though,  they  pay  me  well  for  my 
horses.  But  these  two  fellows  wanting  such  a 


96  JACK    DOWNING  S    LETTERS. 

broad  chaise  ;  they  are  going  to  have  a  real  frolic 
somewhere  to  night.  I've  a  plaguy  good  mimi  to 
jump  on  to  one  of  the  horses  and  follow,  and  see 
what  sort  of  snuff  they  are  up  to.  It's  so  dark  I 
could  do  it  just  as  well  as  not,  without  the  least  dan 
ger  of  their  seeing  me." 

No  sooner  thought  than  done.  Jake  at  once 
mounted  one  of  his  horses,  and  followed  the  chaise. 
There  was  no  moon,  and  the  night  was  cloudy  and 
dark  ;  but  a  slight  rattle  in  one  of  the  wheels  of  the 
chaise,  enabled  him  easily  to  follow  it,  though  en 
tirely  out  of  sight.  Having  gone  about  two  miles 
the  chaise  stopped  at  the  corner,  about  a  hundred 
rods  from  the  house  of  Dr.  Stubbs.  Jake  got  off 
and  hitched  his  horse,  and  crept  carefully  along  by 
the  side  of  the  fence  to  see  what  was  done  there. 
By  stooping  down  and  looking  up  against  a  clear 
patch  of  sky,  he  could  see  one  of  the  two  leave  the 
chaise  and  go  to  the  fence  by  the  side  of  the  road 
and  return  again,  carrying  something  in  his  arms  to 
the  chaise.  He  repeated  this  operation  twice  ;  but 
what  he  carried  Jake  could  not  discern.  Perhaps 
it  might  be  some  baskets  of  refreshments.  They 
were  going  off  to  some  house  to  have  a  frolic.  The 
chaise  moved  on  again,  and  Jake  mounted  his  horse 
and  followed.  They  went  up  the  road  till  they 
came  to  the  old  meeting-house  ;  they  passed  it  a 
little,  and  came  against  the  old  burying  ground. 
The  chaise  stopped  and  Jake  stopped.  The  chaise 
stood  still  for  the  space  of  about  live  minutes,  and 
there  was  not  the  least  sound  to  be  heard  in  any  di 
rection.  At  last,  from  the  little  rattle  of  the  chaise 
wheel,  he  perceived  they  were  moving  at  a  moder 
ate  walk.  They  came  to  the  corner  of  the  bury 
ing  ground,  and  turned  a  little  out  of  the  road  and 
stopped  the  chaise  under  the  shadow  of  a  forge 
spreading  tree,  where  it  could  not  be  perceived  by 


.JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  97 

any  one  passing  in  the  road,  even  should  the  clouds 
brush  away  and  leave  it  starlight. 

"  It  is  very  odd,"  thought  Jake,  "  that  they  should 
stop  at  such  a  place  as  this  in  a  dark  night ;  the  last 
place  in  the  world  I  should  think  of  stopping  at." 

Jake  dismounted  and  hitched  his  horse ^a  little 
distance,  and  crept  carefully  up  to  watch  their  move 
ments.  They  took  something  out  of  the  chais"e, 
passed  along  by  the  fence,  went  through  the  little 
gate,  and  entered  the  burying  ground.  Here  a  new 
light  seemed  to  flash  upon  Jake's  mind. 

"  I  hope  no  murder  has  been  committed,"  thought 
he  to  himself;  "  but  it's  pretty  clear  something  is  to 
be  buried  here  to-night  that  the  world  must  know 
nothing  about." 

Jake  was  perplexed,  and  in  doubt  as  to  what  he 
should  do.  He  had  some  conscience,  and  felt  as 
though  he  ought  to  investigate  the  matter,  and  put 
a  stop  to  the  business  if  anything  very  wicked  was 
going  on.  But  then  there  were  other  considera 
tions  that  weighed  on  the  other  side.  If  murder 
had  been  committed  it  was  within  the  range  of  pos 
sibility,  and  not  very  unreasonable  to  suppose,  that 
murder  might  be  committed  again  to  conceal  it. 
There  were  two  of  them,  and  he  was  alone.  It 
might  not  be  entirely  safe  for  him  to  interfere.  He 
would  hardly  care  to  be  thrown  into  a  grave  and 
buried  there  that  night.  And  then,  again,  Jake  was 
avaricious,  and  wouldn't  care  to  break  friends  with 
those  college  fellows,  for  they  paid  him  a  good  deal 
of  money.  On  the  whole,  he  was  resolved  to  keep 
quiet  and  see  the  end  of  the  matter. 

Joe  and '  Rufus  walked  two-thirds  of  the  way 
across  the  burying  ground  and  stopped.  Jake  fol 
lowed  at  a  careful  distance,  and  when  he  found 
they  had  stopped,  he  crept  slowly  up  on  the  darkest 
side,  so  near  that,  partly  by  sight  and  partly  by 
sound,  he  could  discover  what  took  place.  There 
7 


98  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

was  not  a  loud  word  spoken,  though  he  occasion 
ally  heard  them  whisper  to  each  other.  Then  he 
heard  the  sound  of  shovels  and  the  moving  of  gravel. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Jake  to  himself,  "  they  are  dig 
ging  a  grave  !"  and  the  cold  sweat  started  on  his 
forehead.  Still  he  resolved  to  be  quiet  and  see  it 
all  through.  Once  or  twice  they  stopped  and  seem 
ed  to  be  listening,  as  though  they  thought  they 
heard  some  noise.  Then  he  could  hear  them  whis 
per  to  each  other,  but  could  not  understand  what 
they  said.  After  they  had  been  digging  and  throw 
ing  out  gravel  some  time,  he  heard  a  sound  like  the 
light  knock  of  a  shovel  upon  the  lid  of  a  coffin. 

"  Take  care,"  said  Joe,  in  a  very  loud  whisper, 
"  it'll  never  do  to  make  such  a  noise  as  that ;  it 
could  be  heard  almost  half  a  mile  ;  do  be  more  care 
ful." 

Again  they  pursued  their  work,  and  occasional 
ly  a  hollow  sound  like  a  shovel  scraping  over  a  cof 
fin  was  heard.  At  length  their  work  of  throwing 
out  gravel  seemed  to  be  completed  ;  and  then  there 
was  a  pause  for  some  time,  interrupted  occasional 
ly  by  sounds  of  screwing,  and  wedging,  and  wrench 
ing;  and  at  last  they  seemed  to  be  lifting  some 
heavy  substance  out  of  the  grave.  They  carried 
it  toward  the  gate.  Jake  was  lying  almost  upon 
the  ground,  ana  as  they  passed  near  him,  he  could 
perceive  they  were  carrying  some  white  object 
about  the  length  and  size  of  a  corpse.  They  went 
out  at  the  gate  and  round  to  the  chaise  ;  and  pre 
sently  they  returned  again,  and  appeared  by  their 
motions  and  the  sound  to  be  filling  up  the  grave. 
Jake  took  this  opportunity  to  go  and  examine  the 
chaise  ;  and  sure  enough  he  found  there  a  full-sized 
corpse,  wrapped  in  a  white  sheet,  lying  in  the  cen 
tre  of  the  chaise,  the  feet  resting  on  the  floor,  the 
body  leaning  across  the  seat,  and  the  head  resting 
against  the  centre  of  the  back  part  of  the  chaise. 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  99 

"  Only  some  scrape  of  the  Doctor's  after  all,"  said 
Jake  to  himself,  who  now  began  to  breathe  some 
what  easier  than  he  had  done  for  some  time  past. 
"  But  it's  rather  shameful  business,  though ;  this 
must  be  Deacon  Gray's  daughter,  I'm  sure  ;  and  it's 
a  shame  to  treat  the  old  man  in  this  shabby  kind  of 
way.  I'll  put  a  stop  to  this,  anyhow.  Polly  Gray 
was  too  good  a  sort  of  a  gal  to  be  chopped  up  like 
a  quarter  of  beef,  according  to  my  way  of  thinking, 
and  it  shan't  be." 

Jake  then  lifted  the  corpse  out  of  the  chaise,  car 
ried  it  a  few  rods  farther  from  the  road,  laid  it  down, 
took  off  the  winding  sheet,  wrapped  it  carefully 
round  himself,  went  back  and  got  into  the  chaise, 
and  placed  himself  exactly  in  the  position  in  which 
the  corpse  had  been  left.  He  had  remained  in  that 
situation  but  a  short  time  before  Joe  and  Rufus, 
having  filled  up  the  grave  and  made  all  right  there, 
came  and  seated  themselves  in  the  chaise,  one  on 
each  side  of  the  corpse,  and  drove  slowly  and  qui 
etly  off. 

"  I'm  glad  it's  over,"  said  Rufus,  fetching  a  long 
breath.  "  My  heart's  been  in  my  mouth  the  whole 
time.  I  thought  I  heard  somebody  coming  half  a 
dozen  times ;  and  then  it's  such  a  dismal,  gloomy 
place  too.  You  wouldn't  catch  me  there  again,  in 
such  a  scrape,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Well,  I  was  calm  as  clock-work  the  whole 
time,"  said  Joe.  "  You  should  have  such  pluck  as 
I've  got,  Rufe ;  nothing  ever  frightens  me." 

At  that  moment  the  chaise  wheel  struck  a  stone, 
and  caused  the  corpse  to  roll  suddenly  against  Joe. 
He  clapped  up  his  hand  to  push  it  a  little  back,  and 
instead  of  a  cold  clammy  corpse,  he  felt  his  hand 
pressed  against  a  warm  face  of  live  flesh.  As 
quick  as  though  he  had  been  struck  by  lightning, 
Joe  dropped  the  reins,  and  with  one  bound  sprang 


100  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

a  rod  from  the  chaise  and  ran  for  his  life.  Rufus, 
without  knowing  the  cause  of  this  strange  and  sud 
den  movement,  sprang  from  the  other  side  with  al 
most  equal  agility,  arid  followed  Joe  with  his  ut 
most  speed.  They  scarcely  stopped  to  take  breath 
till  they  had  run  two  miles  and  got  into  Joe's  room 
at  the  college,  and  shut  the  door  and  locked  them 
selves  in.  Here,  having  sworn  Joe's  chum  to  se 
crecy,  they  began  to  discuss  the  matter.  But  con 
cerning  the  very  strange  warmth  of  the  corpse  they 
coufd  come  to  no  satisfactory  conclusion.  Wheth 
er  it  could  be,  that  they  had  not  actually  taken  up 
the  corpse  from  the  grave,  but  before  they  had  got 
down  to  it  some  evil  spirit  had  come  in  the  shape 
of  the  corpse  and  deceived  them,  or  whether  it  was 
actually  the  corpse,  and  it  had  come  to  life,  or 
whether  it  was  the  ghost  of  Polly  Gray,  were  ques 
tions  they  could  not  decide.  They  agreed,  how 
ever,  to  go  the  next  morning  by  sunrise  on  to  the 
ground,  and  see  what  discoveries  they  could  make. 

When  Jacob  Rider  found  himself  alone  in  the 
chaise,  being  convinced  that  Joe  and  Rufus  would 
not  come  back  to  trouble  him  that  night,  he  turned 
about  and  drove  back  to  the  burying  ground. 

"  Now,"  said  Jake,  "  I  think  the  best  thing  I  can 
do,  for  all  concerned,  is  to  put  Polly  Gray  back 
where  she  belongs,  and  there  let  her  rest." 

Accordingly  Jake  went  to  work  and  opened  the 
grave  again,  carried  the  corpse  and  replaced  it  as 
well  as  he  could,  and  filled  up  the  grave  and  round 
ed  it  off.in  good  order.  He  then  took  his  horses  and 
chaise  and  returned  home,  well  satisfied  with  his 
night's  work. 

The  next  morning,  some  time  before  sunrise,  and 
before  any  one  were  stirring  in  the  neighborhood, 
Joe  and  Rufus  was  at  the  old  burying  ground. 
They  went  round  the  inclosure,  went  to  the  tree 
where  they  had  fastened  their  horse,  and  looked  on 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  101 

every  side,  but  discovered  nothing.  They  went 
through  the  gate,  and  across  to  the  grave  where 
they  had  been  the  night  before.  The  grave  look 
ed  all  right,  as  though  it  had  not  been  touched  since 
the  funeral.  They  could  see  nothing  of  the  horse 
or  chaise,  and  they  concluded  if  the  corpse  or  evil 
spirit,  or  whatever  it  was  in  the  chaise,  had  left  the 
horse  to  himself,  he  probably  found  his  way  direct 
ly  home.  They  thought  it  best  therefore  immedi 
ately  to  go  and  see  Jake,  and  make  some  kind  of 
an  explanation.  So  they  went  over  immediately  to 
Jake's  stable,  and  found  the  horse  safe  in  his  stall. 
Presently  Jake  made  his  appearance. 

"  Well,  your  confounded  old  horse,"   said  Joe, 

"  wouldn't  stay  hitched  last  night.     He  left  us  in 

the  lurch,  and  we  had  to  come  home  afoot.     I  see 

he's  come  home,  though.     Chaise  all  right,  I  hope." 

"  Yes,  all  right,"  said  Jake. 

"  Well,  how  much  for  the  ride,"  said  Joe,  "  see 
ing  we  didn't  ride  but  one  way  ?" 

"  Seeing  you  rode  part  way  back,"  said  Jake,  "  I 
shall  charge  you  fifty  dollars." 

Joe  started  and  looked  round,  but  a  knowing  leer 
in  Jake's  eye  convinced  him  it  was  no  joke.  He 
handed  Jake  the  fifty  dollars,  at  the  same  time  plac 
ing  his  finger  emphatically  across  his  lips  ;  and  Jake 
took  the  fifty  dollars,  whispering  in  Joe's  ear, "  dead 
folks  tell  no  tales."  Jake  then  put  his  finger  across 
his  lips,  and  Joe  and  Rufus  bade  him  good  morn 
ing. 


JACK  DOWNTNG'S  LETTERS. 

CHRISTOPHER  CROTCHET: 

THE  SINGING-MASTER. 


BY    SEBA    SMITH. 


YOUR  New  England  country  singing-master  is  a 
peculiar  character  ;  who  shall  venture  to  describe 
him  ?     During  his  stay  in  a  country  village,  he  is 
the  most  important  personage  in  it.  "  The  common 
school-master,  to  be  sure,  is  a  man  of  dignity  and 
importance.     Children  ne-ver  pass  him  on  the  road, 
without  turning- square  round,  pulling  off  their  hats, 
and  making  one  of  their  best  and  most  profound 
bows.    He  is  looked  up  to  with  universal  deference 
both  by  young  and  old,  and  is  often  invited  out  to 
tea.     Or,  if  he  "  boards  round,"  great  is  the  parade, 
and  great  the  preparation,  by  each  family,  when 
their  '-week  for  boarding  the  master"  draws  near. 
Then  not  unfrequently  a  well  fatted  porker  is  killed, 
and  the  spare  ribs  are  duly  hung  round  the  pantry 
in  readiness  for  roasting.     A  half  bushel  of  sausa 
ges  are  made  up  into  "  links,"  and  suspended  on  a 
pole  near  the  ceiling  from  one  end  of  the  kitchen 
to  the  other.     And  the  Saturday  beforehand,  if  the 
school-master  is  to  come  on  Monday,  the  work  of 
preparation  reaches  its  crisis.     Then  it  is,  that  the 
old  oven,  if  it  be  not  "heaten  seven  times   hotter 
than  it  is  wont  to  be,"  is  at  least  heated  seven  times  ; 
and  apple-pies,  and  pumpkin-pies,  and  mince-pies' 
are   turned   out  by  dozens,  and    packed  away  in 
closet  and  cellar  for  the  coming  week.     And'  the 
"  fore  room,"  which  has  not  had  a  fire  in  it  for  the 
winter,  is  now  duly  washed  and  scrubbed  and  put 
to  rights,  and  wood  is  heaped  on  the   fire  with  a 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  103 

liberal  hand,  till  the  room  itself  becomes  almost 
another  oven.  George  is  up  betimes  on  Monday 
morning  to  go  with  his  hand-sled  and  bring  the 
master's  trunk  ;  Betsey  and  Sally  are  rigged  out  in 
the  best  calico  gowns,  the  little  ones  have  their 
faces  washed  and  their  hair  combed  with  more  than 
ordinary  care,  and  the  mother's  cap  has  an  extra 
crimp.  And  all  this  stir  and  preparation  for  the 
common  school-master.  And  yet  he  is  but  an 
every-day  planet,  that  moves  in  a  regular  orbit,  and 
comes  round  at  least  every  winter. 

But  the  singing-master  is  your  true  comet.  Ap 
pearing  at  no  regular  intervals,  he  comes  suddenly, 
and  often  unexpected.  Brilliant,  mysterious  and 
erratic,  no  wonder  that  he  attracts  all  eyes,  and 
produces  a  tremendous  sensation.  Not  only  the 
children,  but  the  whole  family,  flock  to  the  windows 
when  he  passes,  and  a  face  may  be  seen  at  every 
pane  of  glass,  eagerly  peering  out  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  singing-master.  Even  the  very 
dogs  seem  to  partake  of  the  awe  he  inspires,  and 
bark  with  uncommon  fierceness  whenever  they 
meet  him. 

*'  O,  father,"  said  little  Jimmy  Brown,  as  he  came 
running  into  the  house  on  a  cold  December  night, 
with  eyes  staring  wide  open,  and  panting  for  breath, 
"  O,  father,  Mr.  Christopher  Crotchet  from  Quaver- 
town,  is  over  to  Mr.  Gibbs'  tavern,  come  to  see 
about  keeping  singing- school ;  and  Mr.  Gibbs,  and 
a  whole  parcel  more  of  'em,  wants  you  to  come 
right  over  there,  cause  they're  goin'  to  have  a 
meeting  this  evening  to  see  about  hiring  of  him." 

Squire  Brown  and  his  family,  all  except  Jimmy, 
were  seated  round  the  supper  table  when  this  inter 
esting  piece  of  intelligence  was  announced.  Every 
one  save  Squire  Brown  himself,  gave  a  sudden 
start,  and  at  once  suspended  operations ;  but  the 
Squire,  who  was  a  very  moderate  man,  and  never 


104  JACK  DOWNISTG'S  LETTERS. 

did  anything  from  impulse,  ate  on  without  turning 
his  head,  or  changing  his  position.  After  a  short 
pause,  however,  which  was  a  moment  of  intense 
anxiety  to  some  members  of  the  family,  he  replied 
to  Jimmy  as  follows: — 

"  I  shan't  do  no  sich  thing ;  if  they  want  a  sing 
ing-school,  they  may  get  it  themselves.  A  singing- 
school  wont  do  us  no  good,  and  I've  ways  enough 
to  spend  my  money  without  paying  it  for  singing." 
Turning  his  head  round  and  casting  a  severe  look 
upon  Jimmy,  he  proceeded  with  increasing  energy: 

"  Now,  Sir,  hang  your  hat  up  and  set  down  and 
eat  your  supper ;  I  should  like  to  know  what  sent 
you  off  over  to  the  tavern  without  leave." 

"  I  wanted  to  see  the  singing-master,"  said  Jim 
my.  "Sam  Gibbs  said  there  was  a  singing-master 
over  to  their  house,  and  so  I  wanted  to  see  him." 

"Well,  Fll  singing-master  you,"  said  the  Squire, 
•"if  I  catch  you  to  go  off  so  again  without  leave. 
Come,  don't  stand  there ;  set  down  and  eat  your 
supper,  or  I'll  trounce  you  in  two  minutes." 

"  There,  I  declare,"  said  Mrs.  Brown,  "  I  do  think 
it  too  bad.  I  do  wish  I  could  live  in  peace  one 
moment  of  my  life.  The  children  will  be  spoilt 
and  ruined.  They  never  can  stir  a  step  nor  hardly 
breathe,  but  what  they  must  be  scolded  and  fretted 
to  death." 

Squire  Brown  had  been  accustomed  to  these 
sudden  squalls  about  twenty- five  years,  they  having 
commenced  some  six  months  or  so  after  his  mar 
riage  ;  and  long  experience  had  taught  him,  that 
the  only  way  to  escape  with  safety,  was  to  bear 
away  immediately  and  scud  before  the  wind.  Ac 
cordingly  he  turned  again  to  Jimmy,  and  with  a 
much  softened  tone  addressed  him  as  follows : — 

"  Come,  Jimmy,  my  son,  set  down  and  eat  your 
supper,  that's  a  good  boy.  You  shouldn't  go  away 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  105 

without  asking  your  mother  or  me ;  but  you'll  try 
to  remember  next  time,  won't  you  ?" 

Jimmy  and  his  mother  were  both  somewhat 
soothed  by  this  well-timed  suavity,  and  the  boy 
took  his  seat  at  the  table. 

"  Now,  pa."  said  Miss  Jerusha  Brown,  "  you  will 
go  over  and  see  about  having  a  singing-school, 
won't  you  ?  I  want  to  go  dreadfully  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  can't  do  anything  about  that,"  said  the 
Squire  ;  "  it'll  cost  a  good  deal  of  money,  and  I 
can't  afford  it.  And  besides,  there's  no  use  at  all  in 
it.  You  can  sing  enough  now,  any  of  you ;  you 
are  singing  half  your  time." 

"  There,"  said  Mrs.  Brown,  "  that's  just  the  way. 
Our  children  will  never  have  a  chance  to  be  any 
thing  as  long  as  they  live.  Other  folks'  children 
have  a  chance  to  go  to  singing-schools,  and  to  see 
young  company,  and  to  be  something  in  the  world. 
Here's  our  Jerusha  has  got  to  be  in  her  twenty- 
fifth  year  now,  and  if  she's  ever  going  to  have 
young  company,  and  have  a  chance  to  be  anything, 
she  must  have  it  soon ;  for  she'll  be  past  the  time 
bime-by  for  sich  things.  'Tisn't  as  if  we  was  poor 
and  couldn't  afford  it;  for  you  know,  Mr.  Brown, 
you  pay  the  largest  tax  of  anybody  in  the  town, 
and  can  afford  to  give  the  children  a  chance  to  be 
something  in  the  world,  as  well  as  not.  And  as  for 
living  in  this  kind  of  way  any  longer,  I've  no  notion 
on't." 

Mrs.  Brown  knew  how  to  follow  up  an  advan 
tage.  She  had  got  her  husband  upon  the  retreat 
in  the  onset  a  moment  before,  in  reference  to  Jim 
my's  absence,  and  the  closing  part  of  this  last 
speech  was  uttered  with  an  energy  and  determina 
tion,  of  which  Squire  Brown  knew  too  well  the 
import  to  disregard  it.  Perceiving  that  a  storm 
was  brewing  that  would  burst  upon  his  head  with 
tremendous  power,  if  he  did  riot  take  care  to  avoid 


106  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

it,  he  finished  his  supper  with  all  convenient  des 
patch,  rose  from  the  table,  put  on  his  great-coat 
and  hat,  and  marched  deliberately  over  to  Gibbs' 
tavern.  Mrs.  Brown  knew  at  once,  that  she  had 
won  the  victory,  and  that  they  should  have  a  sing 
ing-school.  The  children  also  had  become  so  well 
versed  in  the  science  of  their  mother's  tactics,  that 
they  understood  the  same  thing,  and  immediately 
began  to  discuss  matters  preparatory  to  attending 
the  school. 

Miss  Jerusha  said  she  must  have  her  new  calico 
gown  made  right  up,  the  next  day;  and  her  mother 
said  she  should,  and  David  might  go  right  over  af 
ter  Betsey  Davis  to  come  to  work  on  it  the  next 
morning. 

"  How  delightful  it  will  be  to  have  a  singing- 
school,"  said  Miss  Jerusha  :  "  Jimmy,  what  sort  of 
a  looking  man  is  Mr.  Crotchet  ?" 

"  Oh,  he  is  a  slick  kind  of  a  looking  man,"  said 
Jimmy. 

"  Is  he  a  young  man,  or  a  married  man  ?"  inquir 
ed  Miss  Jerusha. 

"  Ho !  married  ?  no  ;  I  guess  he  isn't,"  said 
Jimmy,  "  I  don't  believe  he's  more  than  twenty 
years  old." 

"  Poh  ;  I  don't  believe  that  story,"  said  Jerusha, 
"  a  singing-master  must  be  as  much  as  twenty-five 
years  old,  I  know  !  How  is  he  dressed  1  Isn't  he 
dressed  quite  genteel  ?" 

"  Oh,  he's  dressed  pretty  slick,"  said  Jimmy. 

"  Well,  that's  what  makes  him  look  so  young," 
said  Miss  Jerusha ;  "  I  dare  say  he's-  as  much  as 
twenty-five  years  old  ;  don't  you  think  he  is,  moth 
er  ?" 

"  Well,  I  think  it's  pretty  likely  he  is,"  said  Mrs. 
Brown  ;  "  singing-masters  are  generally  about  that 
age." 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  107 

"  How  does  he  look  ?"  said  Miss  Jerusha ;  "  is  he 
handsome  ?" 

"  He's  handsome  enough,"  said  Jimmy,  "  only  he's 
got  a  red  head  and  freckly  face." 

"  Now,  Jim,  I  don't  believe  a  word  you  say.    You 
are  saying  this,  only  just  to  plague  me" 

To  understand  the  propriety  of  this  last  remark 
of  Miss  Jerusha,  the  reader  should  be  informed,  that 
for  the  last  ten  years  she  had  looked  upon  every 
young  man  who  came  into  the  place,  as  her  own 
peculiar  property.     And  in  all  cases,  in  order  t 
obtain  possession  of  her  aforesaid  property,  she  t     _^ 
adopted  prompt  measures,  and  pursued  them  with*^ 
a  diligence  worthy  of  all  praise. 

"No  I  ain't  neither,"  said  Jimmy,  "tsJ3y  he  has 
got  a  red  head  and  freckly  face." 

"  La,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Brown,  "  wha|  i£.  he  has  4 
I'm   sure   a  red  head  don't  look  bad;  and  one  o£3> 
the  handsomest  men  that  ever  I  see,  had  a  frejcklyQ-. 
face." 

"  Well,  Jimmy,  how  large  is   he?     Is  ;b 
man,  or  a  short  man  ?"  said  Miss  Jerusha,^ 

"Why,  he  isn't  bigger  round  than   I   be," 


Jimmy ;  "  and  I  guess  he  isn't  quite  as  tall  as  a  )ay-v- 
pole  ;*but  he's  so  tall  he  has  to  stoop  when  he  jgoes  ^ 
into  the  door." 


So  far  from  addin    to  the  shock,  which  Miss 


said 


eru- 


jrv 


sha's  nerves  had  already  received  from  the  account 
of  the  red  head  and  freckly  face,  this  last-piec~ 
intelligence  was  on  the  whole  rather  co>solat 
for  she  lacked  but  an  inch  and  a  half  of^sjx  feet 
height  herself. 

"  Well,  Jimmy,"  said   Miss   Jerusha££fwhen 
stands  up,  take  him  altogether,  isn't  he  44J^ 
ing  young  man?"  .^^ 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  said  Jimmy  f-^. 
"  he  looks  the  most  like  the  tongs  in  the  riddle,  oi*"^ 
anything  I  can  think  of: 


108  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

'Long legs  and  crooked  thighs, 
Little  head  and  no  eyes.'  " 

"  There,  Jim,  you  little  plague."  said  Miss  Jeru- 
sha,  "  you  shall  go  right  off  to  bed,  if  you  don't 
leave  off  your  nonsense.  I  won't  hear  another  word 
of  it." 

"  I  don't  care  it  you  won't,"  said  Jimmy,  "  it's  all 
true,  every  word  of  it." 

"  What !  then  the  singing-muster  hasn't  got  no 
eyes,  has  he  ?"  said  Miss  Jerusha  ;  "  that's  a  pretty 
story." 

"  I  don't  mean,  he  hasn't  got  no  eyes  at  all,"  said 
Jimmy,  "  only  his  eyes  are  dreadful  little,  and  you 
can't  see  but  one  of  'em  to  time  neither,  they're 
twisted  round  so." 

"  A  little  cross-eyed,  I  s'pose,"  said  Mrs.  Brown, 
"  that's  all  ;  I  don't  think  that  hurts  the  looks  of  a 
man  a  bit ;  it  only  makes  him  look  a  little  sharp 
er." 

While  these  things  were  transpiring  at  Mr. 
Brown's,  matters  of  weight  and  importance  were 
being  discussed  at  the  tavern.  About  a  dozen  of 
the  neighbors  had  collected  there  early  in  the  even 
ing,  and  every  one,  as  soon  as  he  found  that  Mr. 
Christopher  Crotchet  from  Quavertown  was  in  the 
village,  was  for  having  a  singing-school  forthwith, 
cost  what  it  would.  They  accordingly  proceeded 
at  once  to  ascertain  Mr.  Crotchet's  terms.  His 
proposals  were,  to  keep  twenty  evenings  for  twenty 
dollars  and  "  found,"  or  for  thirty  and  board  him 
self.  The  school  to  be  kept  three  evenings  in  a 
week.  A  subscription-paper  was  opened,  and  the 
sum  of  fifteen  dollars  was  at  last  made  up.  But 
that  was  the  extent  to  which  they  could  go ;  not 
another  dollar  could  be  raised.  Much  anxiety  was 
now  felt  for  the  arrival  of  Squire  Brown ;  for  the 
question  of  school  or  no  school  depended  entirely 
on  him. 


JACK  DOWNIXG'S  LETTERS.  109 

"  Squire  Brown's  got  money  enough,"  said  Mr. 
Gibbs,  "  and  if  he  only  has  the  will,  we  shall  have  a 
school." 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  Mr.  Jones  ;  "  if  Mrs.  Brown 
has  the  will,  we- shall  have  a  school,  let  the  Squire's 
will  be  what  it  may." 

Before  the  laugh  occasioned  by  this  last  remark 
had  fully  subsided,  Squire  Brown  entered,  much  to 
the  joy  of  the  whole  company. 

"  Squire  Brown,  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mr. 
Gibbs ;  "  shall  I  introduce  you  to  Mr.  Christopher 
Crotchet,  singing-master  from  Quavertown. 

The  Squire  was  a  very  short  man,  somewhat  in 
clined  to  corpulence,  and  Mr.  Crotchet,  according 
to  Jimmy's  account,  was  not  quite  as  tall  as  a  hay- 
pole  ;  so  that  by  dint  of  the  Squire's  throwing  his 
head  back  and  looking  up,  and  Mr.  Crotchet's  cant 
ing  his  head  on  one  side  in  order  to  bring  one  eye 
to  bear  on  the  Squire,  the  parties  were  brought 
within  each  other's  field  of  vision.  The  Squire 
made  a  bow,  which  was  done  by  throwing  his  head 
upward,  and  Mr.  Crotchet  returned  the  compliment 
by  extending  his  arm  downward  to  the  Squire  and 
shaking  hands. 

When  the  ceremony  of  introduction  was  over, 
Mr.  Gibbs  laid  the  whole  matter  before  Mr.  Brown, 
showed  him  the  subscription-paper,  and  told  him 
they  were  all  depending  upon  him  to  decide  wheth 
er  they  should  have  a  singing-school  or  not.  Squire 
Brown  put  on  his  spectacles  and  read  the  subscrip 
tion-paper  over  two  or  three  times,  till  he  fully  un 
derstood  the  terms,  and  the  deficiency  in  the  amount 
subscribed.  Then  without  saying  a  word,  he  took 
a  pen  and  deliberately  subscribed  five  dollars. 
That  settled  the  business ;  the  desired  sum  was 
raised,  and  the  school  was  to  go  ahead.  It  was 
agreed  that  it  should  commence  on  the  following 
evening,  and  that  Mr.  Crotchet  should  board  with 


110  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

Mr.  Gibbs  one  week,  with  the  Squire  the  next,  and 
so  go  round  through  the  neighborhood. 

On  the  following  day  there  was  no  small  com 
motion  among  the  young  folks  of  the  village,  in 
making  preparation  for  the  evening  school.  New 
singing-books  were  purchased,  dresses  were  pre 
pared,  curling-tongs  and  -crimping-irons  were  put 
in  requisition,  and  early  in  the  evening  the  long 
chamber  in  Gibbs'  tavern,  which  was  called  by  way 
of  eminence  "  the  hall,"  was  well  filled  by  youth  of 
both  sexes,  the  old  folks  not  being  allowed  to  at 
tend  that  evening,  lest  the  "  boys  and  gals  "  should 
be  diffident  about  "  sounding  the  notes."  A  range 
of  long  narrow  tables  was  placed  round  three  sides 
of  the  hall,  with  benches  behind  them,  upon  which 
the  youth  were  seated.  A  singin|^book  and  a  can 
dle  were  shared  by  two,  all  round  the  room,  till  you 
came  to  Miss  Jerusha  Brown,  who  had  taken  the 
uppermost  seat,  and  monopolized  a  whole  book  and 
a  whole  candle  to  her  own  use.  Betsey  Buck,  a 
lively,  reckless  sort  of  a  girl  of  sixteen,  who  cared 
for  nobody  nor  nothing  in  this  world,  but  was  full 
of  frolic  and  fun,  had  by  chance  taken  a  seat  next 
to  Miss  Jerusha.  Miss  Betsey  had  a  slight  inward 
turn  of  one  eye,  just  enough  to  give  her  a  roguish 
look,  that  comported  well  with  her  character. — • 
While  they  were  waiting  for  the  entrance  of  the 
master,  many  a  suppressed  laugh,  and  now  and  then 
an  audible  giggle,  passed  round  the  room,  the  mere 
ebullitions  of  buoyant  spirits  and  contagious  mirth, 
without  aim  or  object.  Miss  Jerusha,  who  was  try 
ing  to  behave  her  prettiest,  repeatedly  chided  their 
rudeness,  and  more  than  once  told  Miss  Betsey 
Buck,  that  she  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  be  laughing 
so  much  ;  "  for  what  would  Mr.  Crotchet  think,  if 
he  should  come  in  and  find  them  all  of  a  giggle  ?" 

After  a  while  the  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Christo 
pher  Crotchet  entered.  He  bent  his  body  slightly 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  Ill 

as  he  passed  the  door,  to  prevent  a  concussion  of 
his  head  against  the  lintel,  and  then  walked  very 
erect  into  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  made  a  short 
speech  to  his  class.  His  grotesque  appearance 
caused  a  slight  tittering  round  the  room,  and  Miss 
Betsey  was  even  guilty  of  an  incipient  audible 
laugh,  which  however  she  had  the  tact  so  far  to 
turn  into  a  cough  as  to  save  appearances.  Still  it 
was  observed  by  Miss  Jerusha,  who  told  her  again 
in  a  low  whisper  that  she  ought  to  be  ashamed,  and 
added  that "  Mr.  Crotchet  was  a  most  splendid  man ; 
a  beautiful  man." 

After  Mr.  Crotchet  had  made  his  introductory 
speech,  he  proceeded  to  try  the  voices  of  his  pupils, 
making  each  one  alone  follow  him  in  rising  and  tail 
ing  the  notes.  He  passed  round  without  difficulty 
till  he  came  to  Miss  Betsey  Buck.  She  rather  hes 
itated  to  let  her  voice  be  heard  alone  ;  but  the  mas 
ter  told  her  she  must  sound,  and  holding  his  head 
down  so  close  to  hers  that  they  almost  met,  he  com 
menced  pouring  his  faw,  sole,  law,  into  her  ear. 
Miss  Betsey  drew  back  a  little,  but  followed  with  a 
low  and  somewhat  tremulous  voice,  till  she  had 
sounded  three  or  four  notes,  when  her  risible  mus 
cles  got  the  mastery,  and  she  burst  out  in  an  unre 
strained  fit  of  laughter. 

The  master  looked  confused  and  cross  ;  and  Miss 
Jerusha  even  looked  crosser  than  the  master.  She. 
again  reproached  Miss  Betsey  for  her  rudeness,  and 
told  her  in  an  emphatic  whisper,  which  was  intend 
ed  more  especially  for  the  master's  ear,  "  that  such 
conduct  was  shameful,  and  if  she  couldn't  behave 
better  she  ought  to  stay  at  home." 

Miss  Jerusha's  turn  to  sound  came  next,  and  she 
leaned  her  head  full  half  way  across  the  table  to 
meet  the  master's,  and  sounded  the  notes  clear 
through,  three  or  four  times  over,  from  bottom  to 
top  and  from  top  to  bottom;  and  sounded  them 


112  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTEES. 

with  a  loudness  and  strength  fully  equal  to  that  of 
the  master. 

When  the  process  of  sounding  the  voices  sep 
arately  had  been  gone  through  with,  they  were 
called  upon  to  sound  together  ;  and  before  the  close 
of  the  evening  they  were  allovved  to  commence  the 
notes  of  some  easy  tunes.  It  is  unnecessary  here 
to  give  a  detailed  account  of  the  progress  that  was 
made,  or  to  attempt  to  describe  the  jargon  of  strange 
sounds,  with  which  Gibbs'  hall  echoed  that  night. 
Suffice  it  to  say.  that  the  proficiency  of  the  pupils 
was  so  great,  that  on  the  tenth  evening,  or  when 
the  school  was  half  through,  the  parents  were  per 
mitted  to  be  present,  and  were  delighted  to  hear 
their  children  sing  Old  Hundred,  Mear,  St.  Martin, 
Northfield,  and  Hallowell,  with  so  much  accuracy, 
that  those  who  knew  the  tunes,  could  readily  tell, 
every  time,  which  one  was  being  performed.  Mrs. 
Brown  was  almost  in  ecstacies  at  the  performance, 
and  sat  the  whole  evening  and  looked  at  Jerusha, 
who  sung  with  great  earnestness  and  with  a  voice 
far  above  all  the  rest.  Even  Squire  Brown  him 
self  was  so  much  softened  that  evening,  that  his 
face  wore  a  sort  of  smile,  and  he  told  his  wife  "  he 
didn't  grudge  his  five  dollars,  a  bit." 

The  school  went  on  swimmingly.  Mr.  Crotchet 
became  the  lion  of  the  viHage  ;  and  Miss  Jerusha 
•Brown  "  thought  he  improved  upon  acquaintance 
astonishingly."  Great  preparation  was  made  at 
Squire  Brown's  for  the  important  week  of  boarding 
the  singing-master.  They  outdid  all  the  village  in 
the  quantity  and  variety  of  their  eatables,  and  at 
every  meal  Miss*  Jerusha  was  particularly  assidu 
ous  in  placing  all  the  good  things  in  the  neighbor 
hood  on  Mr.  Crotchet's  plate.  In  fact,  so  bountiful 
ly  and  regularly  was  Mr.  Crotchet  stuffed  during 
the  week,  that  his  lank  form  began  to  assume  a  per 
ceptible  fulness.'  He  evidently  seemed  very  fond 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  113 

of  his  boarding  place,  especially  at  meal  time  ;  and 
made  himself  so  much  at  home,  that  Mrs.  Brown 
and  Jerusha  were  in  a  state  of  absolute  felicity  the 
whole  week.  It  was  true  he  spent  two  evenings 
abroad  during  the  week,  and  it  was  reported  that 
one  of  them  was  passed  at  Mr.  Buck's.  But  Miss 
Jerusha  would  not  believe  a  word  of  such  a  story. 
She  said  "  there  was  no  young  folks  at  Mr.  Buck's 
except  Betsey,  and  she  was  sure  Mr.  Crotchet  was 
a  man  of  more  sense  than  to  spend  his  evenings 
with  such  a  wild,  rude  thing  as  Betsey  Buck." 
Still,  however,  the  report  gave  her  a  little  uneasi 
ness  ;  and  when  it  was  ascertained,  that  during  the 
week  on  which  Mr.  Crotchet  boarded  at  Mr.  Buck's 
he  spent  every  evening  at  home,  except  the  three 
devoted  to  the  singing-school,  Miss  Jerusha's  un 
easiness  evidently  increased.  She  resolved  to  make 
a  desperate  effort  to  counteract  these  untoward  in 
fluences,  and  to  teach  Miss  Betsey  Buck  not  to  in 
terfere  with  other  folk's  concerns.  For  this  pur 
pose  she  made  a  grand  evening  party,  and  invited 
all  the  young  folks  of  the  village,  except  Miss  Buck, 
who  was  pointedly  left  out.  The  treat  was  elabo 
rate  for  a  country  village,  and  Miss  Jerusha  was 
uncommonly  assiduous  in  her  attentions  to  Mr. 
Crotchet  during  the  evening.  But  to  her  inexpres 
sible  surprise  and  chagrin,  about  eight  o'clock,  Mr. 
Crotchet  put  on  his  hat  and  great  coat  and  bade  the 
company  good  night.  Mrs.  Brown  looked  very 
blue,  and  Miss  Jerusha's  nerves  were  in  a  state  ot 
high  excitement.  What  could  it  mean?  She 
would  give  anything  in  the  world  to  know  where 
he  had  gone.*  She  ran  up  into  the  chamber  and 
looked  out  from  the  window.  The  night  was  ra 
ther  dark,  but  she  fancied  she  saw  him  making  his 
way  toward  Mr.  Buck's.  The  company  for  the  re 
mainder  of  the  evening  had  rather  a  dull  time  ;  and 
Miss  Jerusha  passed  almost  a  sleepless  night. 
8 


114  JAC^  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

The  next  evening  Miss  Jerusha  was  early  at  the 
singing-school.  She  took  her  seat  with  a  disconso 
late  air,  opened  her  singing-book  and  commenced 
singing  Hallowell  in  the  following  words : 

"  As  on  some  lonely  building's  top, 

The  sparrow  tells  her  moan, 
Far  from  the  tents  of  joy  and  hope, 

I  sit  and  grieve  alone." 

On  former  occasions,  when  the  scholars  were 
singing  before  school  commenced,  the  moment  the 
master  opened  the  door  they  broke  off  short,  even 
if  they  were  in  the  midst  of  a  tune.  But  now,  when 
the  master  entered,  Miss  Jerusha  kept  on  singing. 
She  went  through  the  whole  tune  after  Mr.  Crotch 
et  came  in,  and  went  back  and  repeated  the  latter 
half  of  it  with  a.  loud  and  full  voice,  which  caused  a 
laugh  among  the  scholars,  and  divers  streaks  of  red 
to  pass  over  the  master's  face. 

At  the  close  of  the  evening's  exercises  Miss  Je 
rusha  hurried  on  her  shawl  and  bonnet,  and  watch 
ed  the  movements  of  the  master.  She  perceived 
he  went  out  directly  after  Betsey  Buck,  and  she 
hastened  alter  them  with  becoming  speed.  She 
contrived  to  get  between  Miss  Buck  and  the  mas 
ter  as  they  walked  along  the  road,  and  kept  Mr. 
Crotchet  in  close  conversation  with  her,  or  rather 
kept  herself  in  close  conversation  with  Mr.  Crotch 
et,  till  they  came  to  the  corner  that  turned  down  to 
Mr.  Buck's  house.  Here  Mr.  Crotchet  left  her 
somewhat  abruptly,  and  walked  by  the  side  of  Miss 
Betsey  toward  Mr.  Buck's.  This  was  more  than 
Miss  Jerusha's  nerves  could  well  bear.  She  was 
under  too  much  excitement  to  proceed  on  her  way 
home.  She  stopped  and  gazed  after  the  couple  as 
they  receded  from  her ;  and  as  their  forms  became 
indistinct  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  she  turned 
and  followed  them,  just  keeping  them  in  view  till 
they  reachnd  the  house.  The  door  opened,  and  to 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  115 

her  inexpressible  horror,  they  both  went  in.  It  was 
past  ten  o'clock,  too  !  She  was  greatly  puzzled. 
The  affair  was  entirely  inexplicable  to  her.  It  could 
not  -be,  however,  that  he  would  stop  many  minutes, 
and  she  waited  to  see  tl^e  result.  Presently  a  light 
appeared  in  the  "fore-room ;"  and  from  the  mellow 
ness  of  that  light  a  fire  was  evidently  kindled  there. 
Miss  Jerusha  approached  the  house  and  reconnoi 
tred.  She  tried  to  look  in  at  the  window,  but  a 
thick  curtain  effectually  prevented  her  from  seeing 
anything  within.  The  curtain  did  not  reach  quite 
to  the  top  of  the  window,  and  she  thought  she  saw 
the  shadows  of  two  persons  before  the  fire,  thrown 
against  the  ceiling.  She  was  determined  by  some 
means  or  other  to  know  the  worst  of  it.  She  look 
ed  round  the  door-yard  arid  found  a  long  piece  of 
board.  She  thought  by  placing  this  against  the 
house  by  the  side  of  the  window,  she  might  be  able 
to  climb  up  and  look  over  the  top  of  the  curtain. 
The  beard  was  accordingly  raised  on  one  end  and 
placed  carefully  by  the  side  of  the  window,  and  Miss 
Jerusha  eagerly  commenced  the  task  of  climbing. 
She  had  reached  the  top  of  the  curtain  and  cast  one 
glance  into  the  room,  where,  sure  enough,  she  be 
held  Mr.  Crotchet  seated  close  by  the  side  of  Miss 
Betsey.  At  this  interesting  moment,  from  some 
cause  or  other,  either  from  her  own  trembling,  for 
she  was  exceedingly  agitated,  or  from  the  board 
not  being  properly  supported  at  the  bottom,  it  slip 
ped  and  canted,  and  in  an  instant  one  half  of  the 
window  was  dashed  with  a  tremendous  crash  into 
the  room. 

Miss  Jerusha  fell  to  the  ground,  but  not  being 
much  injured  by  the  fall,  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
ran  with  the  fleetness  of  a  wild  deer.  The  door 
opened,  and  out  came  Mr.  Crotchet  and  Mr.  Buck, 
and  started  in  the  race.  They  thought  they  had  a 
glimpse  of  some  person  running  up  the  road  when 


"16  JACK  DOWNTNG'S  LETTERS. 

they,  first  came  out,  and  Mr.  Crotchet's  long  legs 
measured  off  the  ground  with  remarkable  velocity. 
But  the  fright  had  added  so  essentially  to  Miss  Je- 
rusha's  powers  of  locomotion,  that  not  even  Mr. 
Crotchet  could  overtake  her,  and  her  pursuers  soon 
lost  sight  of  her  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and 
gave  up  the  chase  and  returned  home. 

Miss  Jerusha  was  not  seen  at  the  singing-school 
after  this,  and  Mrs.  Brown  said  she  stayed  at  home 
because  she  had  a  cough.  Notwithstanding  there 
were  many  rumors  and  surmises  afloat,  and  some 
slanderous  insinuations  thrown  out  against  Miss  Je 
rusha  Brown,  yet  it  was  never  ascertained  by  the 
neighbors,  for  a  certainty,  who  it  was  that  demol 
ished  Mr.  Buck's  window. 

One  item  farther  remains  to  be  added  to  this  ve 
ritable  history  ;  and  that  is,  that  in  three  months 
from  this  memorable  night,  Miss  Betsey  Buck  be 
came  Mrs.  Crotchet  of  Quavertown. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

BY    MAJOR    DOWNING. 

WHEN  a  lady  or  a  politician  writes  a  letter,  you  may  gener 
ally  expect  the  most  important  idea  to  come  into  the  post 
script,  jest  as  the  newspaper  folks  put  in  a  postscript  for  the 
latest  news,  and  sometimes  "  stop  the  press"  to  announce  it. 
Whether  my  postscript  here  will  be  the  most  important  thing 
in  the  book,  is  not  for  me  to  say  ;  but  it  is  the  latest  news,  so 
I've  stopt  the  press  to  put  it  in. 

The  American  Review  for  June  has  made  an  outrageous  at 
tack  upon  Daniel  Webster,  and  my  literature.  It  is  a  whig 
Review,  and  therefore  thinks  Daniel  Webster  is  small  potatoes. 
It  is  a  lif^vry  Review,  and  therefore  thinks  my  literature  is 


JACK  DOWNINQ'S  LETTERS.  ITT 

worse  than  nothin.  According  to  my  notion,  Daniel  is  able 
enough  to  hoe  his  own  potatoes,  and  therefore  I  shant  answer 
for  him  ;  but  I  have  a  word  or  two  to  say  for  myself.  What 
is  one's  meat  is  another's  pisen  ;  and  if  the  American  Review 
don't  like  my  literature,  it  is  because  he  doesn't  know  what  is 
good,  for  every  body  else  eats  it  and  likes  it.  But  let  us  see 
what  the  Review  has  to  say  about  me. 

[From  the  American  Review  for  June,  1845.] 

"  AMERICAN  LETTERS. — Is  there  an  American  school  of 
writers  1  None,  certainly,  unless  they  who  degrade  and  vul 
garise  the  tongueyand  the  taste  of  the  country  by  performances, 
the  whole  merit  of  which  consists  in  their  adoption  of  particu 
lar  local  slang  (such  as  was  employed  in  Major  Downing's 
Letters,  or  in  the  lucubrations  of  Sam  Slick)  are  the  models 
of  a  new  and  noble  literature  that  is  to  be  for  us.  When  these 
things  shall  found  for  us  a  learning,  the  Ethiopian  Minstrels 
will  create  for  us  a  Music,  and  the  disciples  of  JinrCrow  a 
Theatre  of  our  own." 

I  am  willing  to  believe,  after  reading  the  Publisher's  Pre 
face  to  this  little  book,  that  there  is  a  Downing  school  of  lite 
rature  in  the  country,  and  that  I  had  something  to  do  with  it. 
But  I  did  not  know,  before  the  American  Review  said  so,  that 
mine  was  the  only  "  American  school  of  writers."  The  New- 
York  Evening  Gazette  copies  the  paragraph  from  the  Review, 
and  makes  the  following  remarks  about  it,  which  I  think  prove 
that  the  Gazette  can  tell  a  hawk  from  a  handsaw  if  the  Re 
view  cant. 

[From  the  Evening  Gazette.] 

"  The  writer  of  the  above  amusingly  confounds  *  learning' 
with  genius  in  the  quoted  sentence  ;  just  as  he  elsewhere  m 
the  same  article  confounds  the  honor  which  the  production  of 
some  great  poem  may  confer  upon  the  land  which  produced  it, 
with  the  poetic  associations  wherewith  a  song-writer  like 
Burns  may  clothe  that  land.  We  may  never,  in  this  country, 
produce  an  Epic  that  will  live  ;  we  may  never,  in  these  United 
States,  give  birth  to  a  Homer,  a  Milton,  or  Tasso,  whose 
world-renown  may  proudly  reflect  upon  ourselves.  But,  a 
hundred  songs,  from  anonymous  pens  if  you  choose,  having 
half  the  merit  of  those  which  have  given  a  mystic  charm  to 
the  braes  and  brooksides  of  the  land  of  Burns,  would  still  as 
sociate  a  poetic  feeling  with  the  soil,  that  might  be  worth  all 
the  glory  of  an  Epic. 


118  JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS. 

"  In  a  word,  we  may  be  nationalized  in  literature  as  well 
through  our  affections  as  through  our  intellect ;  just  as  we 
may  be  more  bound  together  by  the  characteristic  strains  of 
a  few  national  airs  than  by  the  production  of  an  opera  ; — • 
while  the  organ  of  those  airs,  if  they  come  from  among  the 
many,  will  speak  more  for  the  general  musical  feeling  of  the 
people  than  the  composition  of  the  grandest  overture  from  the 
hand  of  a  Master. 

"  The  learned  Dr.  Julius,  who  was  sent  here  by  the  King  of 
Prussia,  to  make  notes  upon  certain  institutions  of  our  country, 
carried  home  with  him  a  scroll  of  these  very  '  Ethiopian 
songs,1  at  which  this  Reviewer  sneers,  as  affording  proof  as 
striking  as  it  was  interesting,  that  we  had  the  germs  of  a  na 
tional  music  among  us  ;  and  when  his  large  collection  of  min 
erals,  pamphlets,  &c.,  &c.,  was  destroyed  in  the  great  fire  of 
New- York,  as  he  was  on  the  eve  of  sailing  for  Europe — the 
worthy  Doctor,  in  trying  to  replace  what  he  could,  was  partic 
ularly  jpareful  to  supply  the  place  of  those  humble  ditties 
which  had  shared  the  fate  of  the  vast  mass  of  interesting  ma 
terials  which  he  had  been  so  indefatigable  in  bringing  together 
for  his  royal  master. 

"  And  now,  as  to  the  '  Jack  Downing  and  Sam  Slick  litera 
ture,'  which  this  sage  Reviewer  thinks  has  the  one  sole  mis 
sion  of  vulgarizing  the  tongue  and  the  taste  of  the  country.  We 
.are  not  unwilling  to  admit  that  it  may  have,  in  some  degree, 
produced  this  effect ;  but  we  care  not  for  a  small  evil  if  it  be 
inseparable  from  a  great  good.  And  this  '  literature'  has 
done  good  ;  for  if  not  the  first  sign  of  our  intellectual  inde 
pendence,  it  certainly  has  aided  vastly  in  breaking  the  servile 
chain  of  provincial  imitation.  It  established  the  independent 
Republic  of  American  jokedomupon  the  ruins  of  transplanted 
cockneyism." 

Now,  as  for  this  ere  difficulty  between  me  and  the  editor  of 
the  American  Review,  I  shant  stop  to  have  any  very  long 
yarn  about  it.  If  I  was  a  great  writer,  as  he  is,  I'd  go  at 
him  pell-mell  and  raise  such  a  dust  about  his  head  that  lie 
couldn't  be  seen  again  this  six  months.  But  I'm  only  a  plain, 
blunt  man,  that  speaks  right  on,  and  tells  folks  what  they  al 
ready  know.  Pm  something  like  that  old  Roman  that  Mr. 
Shakspeare  tells  about — for  I  do  rejd  Shakspeare  sometimes 
in  winter  evenings,  and  like  it,  it's  full  of  meat  as  an  oyster — * 
so  I  say  I'm  something  like  that  old  Roman,  "  for  I  have 
neither  wit,  nor  worth,  nor  words,  action,  nor  utterance,  nor 


JACK  DOWNING'S  LETTERS.  119 

power  of  speech  to  stir  men's  blood ;"  and  all  I  can  do  is  to 
point  my  adversary  to  the  pens  of  his  editorial  brethren, 
"  poor,  poor,  dumb  mouths,  and  bid  them  speak  for  me." 

The  New- York  Mirror, — I  mean  the  old  Mirror — five  or  six 
years  ago,  speaking  of  some  of  my  writings  published  at  that 
time,  says : 

"  These  are  the  most  graphic  and  really  the  best  Yankee 
papers  we  have  ever  seen,  or  expect  to  see,  let  who  will  write 
them.  Their  author  has  struck  at  a  new  line  in  literature, 
more  piquant,  racy,  and  original,  than  that  adopted  by  '  Boz.' 
We  like  him  none  the  less  for  being  '  native  here,  and  to  the 
manor  born  ;'  for  we  are  among  those  who  can  appreciate 
a  good  production,  even  before  it  has  received  the  commen 
dation  of  foreign  critics." 

The  New- York  Morning  Despatch,  April  22, 1839,  speaking 
of  the  same  writings,  says  : 

"  The  author  has  the  richest  and  most  natural  Yankee  dia 
lect  of  any  writer  who  has  attempted  to  give  the  peculiarities 
of  Jonathan.  The  wit  is  real,  attic,  and  something  more  than 
poor  orthography." 

The  New-Yorker,  May  25th,  1839,  speaking  of  the  same 
writings,  says  : 

"  It  is  enough  to  observe  that  they  emanate  from  the  pen  of 
the  original  author  of  the  Jack  Downing  Letters.  His  Yan 
kee  stories  and  style  are  very  diverting,  and  possess  an  origi 
nality  and  fidelity,  which  are  not  discernable  in  the  writings 
of  a  numerous  horde  of  imitators." 

The  New- York  Courier  and  Enquirer,  July  3, 1839,  speaks 
of  the  same  writings  as  follows : 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  author  of  this  little  volume  is 
the  best  painter  of  Yankee  peculiarities  that  ever  wrote.  He 
is  true  to  nature  and  never  caricatures,  but  without  caricatur 
ing,  is  most  amusing." 

There,  I  might  go  on  in  this  way  and  fill  up  another  book. 
But  I  shan't  do  it ;  for  if  the  American  Reviewer  won't  be 
lieve  the  witnesses  I've  already  brought  up,  I  don't  spose  he 
would  believe  it  if  my  dear  old  friend  the  Oineral  should  come 
back  and  tell  him  he  was  a  goose. 

So  I  shall  here  bid  my  readers  good-by  till  next  time. 

THE  END. 


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